They distract me. Lovers walking hand-in-hand,
leaning together on every damn thing, they come
across, or his arms hanging loosely around her
waist, a spirit of recklessness at its best, or fragile
vine like her arms clinging to his reassuring broad
shoulders. I must say an excellent portrait for the
contest:“A companion for the last season of this year”
Or affection held within is demonstrated, confidently,
to turn public’s eyes towards the blissful world of love.
Ah how cruel I could be? How bitter I could sound?
Damn fools, they think the world is awestruck with
their performance of “Seeing is believing”.
But they do not know how many walkers-by lurching
closer across, reminisce about the way they kissed
their partners, at dusk, in the park, around the corner,
while watching the movie in a darkened theatre, clenched
the lover’s face so tightly that they left bruises, which
would have hurt, at one point of time, as a painful
reminder of having encountered stories of betrayal
and infidelity. Or a doomed venture which had people
losing their identities, willingly, in an exchange, which
had the best of minds spending restless nights – moving
their limbs, tossing and turning their torsos all through,
waking over nightmares, scratching their balls, sitting
on the couch to consume others’ interesting lives on the
red-carpet, in the boulevards. Everyone is bound to lose
to something larger, inexplicable mechanism of history.
At this very moment, I can see, a man standing in the
airport lounge, kissing a woman who is as tall as he,
more handsome and older than he is, holding her close,
the way she wants him to hold her forever. It might
make a pleasantly delightful view for others, who may
choke on a surge of dreary trips down-memory-lane.
I mumble, am sure, they are just lovers, each is married
to someone else. Things around us change, blame the
seasons which bring other people into our lives. Trees,
toughening up their hearts, are shedding their leaves now,
and flaunting their bones to the world. One more brilliantly
hued leaf breaks down on a blade of grass. People, as always,
try to errect positions of Spring in Autumn. And I am
embarrassed to see them possessed in such an odd manner.
Gatekeeper seasons wait for your nod
Gatekeeper you held your breath
Made the summer go on and on
Well they tried to stay in from the cold and wind
Making love and making their dinner
Only to find that the love that they grew in the summer