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A Subway


Shifting shadows now in the dull light
no one particularly the life tells a story,
and a parquet of hinged smartphones
the tones are audible but to oneself
often the scribbling of a beggar woman
marks over an old ad, the fading glossy of turmeric,
a wizardly conjunction ascends towards the platform
the song is replaced, the pain subdued
over the watermelon slices frozen, the tips brazen
in the hot air mixed with stain of surprise and sweat
the night is a bright sky
but only it is lapsed by a day,
a day brighter with thoughts passing over highways,
even at snail pace no looking at the wind.

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