Mirage


Waves of post-summer heat

rippled through afternoon’s lonely lil’ lot

like the contractions in my chest

and rhythmic pounding of tennis shoes

against the sun-weary gravel,

feet carried by the languid shrug

of a melody spilling over my life span

or at least what I know of it till now.

The buzz of anticipation

offers no solace

in seeing the one I love and fear

materialize into my mind

before finalizing into the

painful notion called “reality.”

And yet, I requisite no action either

for whatever is realer than my real

is all the worse for my chakra.

And I ponder all this

while the heat strikes my blazer

worn to reflect my image reincarnate —

arose

like the tears in my eyes

that turned the vicinity blue and green —

and crashed

bringing down a cacophony of

memories and snippets and anything

substantial.

And so I’m

running running running

as yesteryear’s autumn shadows

slink in front of my path.

Perchance,

what a pleasure to see all and nothing

in the sad summer heat.

At least I see color again.

And with that said,

I bravely meander

from bomb-shelter of a school to the car,

for today’s survival game is complete.

In the meanwhile

I pray I won’t spill my guts,

and with them

my feelings for you

borne out of freak chance

and absurd timing.