shifting my feet, one side to another
Nervously dusting an imaginary speck.
Your persistent asking , strafing my mind
Why am I a drifter, a floater, a loser.
The economies of life trample my artistry.
But, today, maybe I have a key , a retort to mend the gaps
Stretching between you and me.
The news of our breakup catches me off kilter
You've made grand plans, zeroed on my lack of life.
You will give me some breathing days to chalk a game plan.
I stomp to the nearest stop , hop on the bus.
"Anywhere but here" , I fling some coins . "It's less", scorns the ticket collector
The journeys of life are better walked than bussed.
I find the warm bench in the isolated park,
The paths of my life crisscross, crumble any straight thought
If I chose a direction , the GPS says I am lost.
The maps indicate detours, I fumble , arrive back at the point of start.
All my ambitions that are pinned are shot by life's crosshairs.
Without a bulletproof vest, life's a masticating test.
It's dusk, I still ponder and wander , gaze at cesspools and lakes.
Below the tides and bubbles , surfaces beyond naked eye
where spewing and brewing occurs.
There lies another quake whose tremors will be charted
on seismographs , after it has shivered.
Broken hearts crack the routes , the pursuit of happiness mars my groove.
Copyright : Meena Vathyam/Le Loop
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