Spinoza’s Harmony VII

opt12

You’re never alone
Look around
You’ll find You

8 to 5

14

Ain’t he worn out,
Tired of his routine?
Everyday he appears
Shines bright, disappears
Only to reappear
The following day

Look at that moon
Flaunts, his borrowed light
Ramp walks a new style
Every night

One moonless night
I lost my way back home
Returned back to the bar for one more

I saw him sitting in a corner
Sulking, plugged to a charger

“Switching on? Switching off?”

Grumpy old schmuck that he is
kept staring at his empty glass

I bought him a rum, three cubes of ice
“time you took a break”

Sun slurred “this job is all i got”

Infantaria

1103

“FERNANDES!”

call out for fernandes
you’ll meet a fernandes
any restaurant or a bar in Goa
you got to find one
maybe two

i had but found a forsaken table
in a odd corner
by a stupid well
propped up with a drab metal bucket
an old portuguese house, now a colonial cafe
“Infantaria”

i dread stepping alone
in joints like such
that has no bar counters, no bar stools
no barkeeps
but a table of two or worse four

i needed a drink badly
“FERNANDES”
“Was I loud?”
Puny nose, squeaky eyes
lips like two thin blades
chop-chop monster frowning at me
MEAN

“fernandes, large rum and a beer pint.”
i sneaked a glance at her
her fiery eyes glued on me
waiting for a sign
any sign to tear me apart
“ahem..fernandes, get me a repeat, i hate to wait”

two on table no 6
i could hear her squirrel
black halter, back facing me
curvy neck
few strands of hair
waving me hello
guy with her was smothering his belly
severe case of ulcer

table no 5
tender face, nice smile, gentle eyes
paused on me
i let her go
she was cute
i had to

table no 11
two quiet couples
mid-life crisis

right then
she walks in
and I liked her, very much.
strawberries chimed on her fluttering feathers
streaks of red splashed on my cheeks, a blush

I couldn’t take my eyes off her
I didn’t want to
Her loose white shirt
top two buttons undone
she looked at me
i smiled
she smiled back
lit a cigarette
surfed her bag
pulled out a book

Please Turn Over. Continue….
The author had her

“FERNANDES, repeat…DOUBLE IT”

postman rings twice and one more time

Dear A,

In a prolonged low phase, no signs of hope but utter despair (God’s humor at its best). We eventually do accept, reconcile, move on…right?
So did I.
Step by step, I worked on myself with low calorie ice creams and brisk walks at home. I launched a series of inspirational quotes on fb and I changed my profile picture from college days, a complete makeover, the world must know. Also, I steered clear of low life poets and their updates. But let me report my rendezvous later with a new pedicurist extended to let’s try a different hair color. Bitch. Well, now that the damage was done, I had no intention of winding my day, home alone watching telly so I made a few calls (God’s humor at its best, yet again) ended up meeting my ex (out of job which I had absolutely no clue of, I swear) in a dim-lit bar. My new hair colour went unnoticed and my credit card took a swipe twice in a day for no fault of mine.
I am back to naught.

Yours truly
N

Reply:

Dear N

That hurts. Come over my dear. Let’s talk.

P.S. BYOB