Monday, March 10, 2014

Almost Summer

The light seems sharper, suddenly;
At eight, as you walk to the station,
The t-shirt clutches your chest with sweat.

Suddenly, the music seems to have stopped.
Instead the cacophony of horns and shouts,
Hoarse, shuffles through the windows.

The curtains are quickly drawn,
The blinding noon met with uneasy naps;
The narrow lanes shall lay abandoned.

The old ghosts know too well,
That none shall come to be haunted.
They lie hidden away in nooks,

Stirring, not even; unlike the dogs
Sneaking under the cars for shades
Which the coconut trees can't provide.

Free buttermilk is given out like advice,
And palm fruits and watermelons await
Like birds for slaughter, tighten imprisoned.

Soon, the power cuts shall melt the ice cream,
The tar shall gleam with persistence of weeds,
While a lonely postman cycles to deliver magazines and bills.

Summer shall soon be here;
While years better and worse persist,
The mangoes shall taste just the same.

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