Like they clear the sewers before rain comes
I clear my thought before thought comes.
The sky no more is blue in the city,
clouds are no more black or white
acres of playground are ripped
like skin from bones
every hand I hold is so weathered
from dragging the weight of life.
so undesirable is the first – acid rain
I almost forgot the charm of bewilderment,
of awe.
Damp walls leave patterns
of sad memories
of snail trails,
of fissures and fractures
those were forever there – unseen.
Rain drenched backpack and shoes
and memories of troubled areas
refuse to go off my tired being,
my aching heart and the shivering body
desperately seek a long rest and some warmth.
Get me dry, let me dry,
my own breath moistens
my philtrum.
I sit by the stink of Bindusagar and sadly hum
at the fixated cloud of capital smoke.
