Thursday, October 15, 2009

Weathered Face -16/10/2009


Tonight this city is drowning itself,
In my plans,
Sinking cries wail out the door,
Of this island-cum-net café,
Mixing with the waft of stale cigarette air,
And tinned Bengali music singing to the traffic,
Calling on us to be more interesting,
Than I think capable,
On account of the weather.

I’m in need of a new plan,
Where sheets of rain are slicing up the evening,
Into tinier and tinier pieces still,
But I’m saturated with six hours of non -stop,
And sit here water logged,
Soaked cobwebs now mingle flirting,
With the increasing numbers of lose threads,
Around the brim of my hat,
Just as the holes on the shoulders of my T shirt,
Desire to grow closer to one another,
Chaffing of salt-crust on my hips and groin,
Competes for the attention,
With the sweat between my toes.

Best laid plans for sub-urban exploration,
Washing away in the rain,
Like the pin lost from my hat,
Bobbing up and down the gutter-gone-river,
As it is carried off underground.

I don’t want to move anymore,
My slice of tonight,
Is served up soggy with embarrassment,
Still sprinkled with the sand,
Dislodged from yesterday’s broken camera,
And a phone's fading-to-flat battery,
Waiting for a friend's call,
To take me back out that door,

Meantime my reflection painted on the PC screen,
Each masterstroke speaks of dampness,
And mushy moods.

And then the mobile shrieks for attention,
And I remember that this is a ‘tonight’ in another town,
And I’ll never get enough of these in my life,
And this is still the game I’ve chosen to play,
And even if the weather has altered,
The players’ positions on the board,
The game goes on,
Nothing and no-one can stop it.
Least of all me.

So the water damaged hat,
Is picked up,
The decision to stand up,
Is made,
And the cold sting of wet clothes down to the butt crack,
Is felt.

But I’m on my feet,
Walking out into weather,
-or not-
The dampener on my plans,
Is the defeat of my spirit,
Pitter patters static sounds on the brim of my hat,
A nagging nay-say stay-inside notion,
Rejoined by a chorus of my footfalls,
In puddles that sound a lot like,
Fuck… the… rain,
Left… right… left,

Because it is a game ~
Everyone here knows the rules by now,
Tonight, like any other,
Weather winner and loser,
No one is allowed to try staying dry.

You walk,

And keep facing the weather.



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