Contamination

It isn't fair that there is a little passage
That connects reason and feelings
Sometimes, thoughts cross over
To the other side before you can capture them
Then they come back contaminated
With an unnecessary sense of purpose
And sometimes, feelings ooze
Into the other room, and come back
Rationalized and diffused

Shrinks spoil a good irrational depression
By linking it methodically to fathers (or mothers)
Reviewers dampen the claim to fame
By pointing a finger at error bars
Global warming interferes with long drives
And love, becomes a (reversible) neurobiochemical reaction

How exhausting it is to know
That every single decision is going to be sound
In retrospect. 

Moving (on)

Nothing fits in my new house 

Everything was custom made for the old space

The table, the couch, the bed

The curtains and the lamp shade

All of them scream salvation

But I insist on remixing them, in the new place

It's not too bad actually. I repainted the ugly bits

Changed the sequence and the mood

Threw in a little gypsy on the librarian

And then I was quite proud

Of refitting my dreams to this new present

I don't have to start over, entirely. 

I could at least build on my mistakes? 

(That asymmetric flower vase?)

But then there comes a thirsty night

And the walk from the bed to the fridge

Brings about this traumatic collision 

Of a knee and a table from the past..

Blue-green bruises, beckon more than chilled water,

Ice packs, in the middle of the night

That one moment is enough for a complete meltdown. 

Proof by elimination

Sudden clarity is so confusing
You shake it to see
If it is denial
You shine light wondering,
If it is defeat in a hoodie
Scan it to verify if
It is confusion on a break
Discuss it to find cracks
Test it on the tear point
Resulting in bewilderment
Revisit the times when you felt
Oppressed by confusion and fear
Wasn't this the time in your future then
That is now turning into you clear present
The scariest bit of your past?
And then just like that
By using elimination
We prove, that this is clarity.

Shoe bites

I was a victim of terrible shoe bites
For a long span of time, which seemed like eternity then,
To my tired, woebegone feet
My big toes squished and the little ones inflamed
I walked around gingerly, to avoid all conflict
Between the shoe and its unfortunate contents

I just bought them, for almost two hundred dollars,
I would say to myself,
I am sure, my feet are going to get used to being in them
But rainbows and unicorns would flash in front of my eyes
Every time I took them off.

I would cross my ankles pretty, and stare at the grass
Outside the glass window
And fantasize about walking barefoot on it
Or the next best thing -- flat sneakers
I would spend a lot of time, from my life back then
Wondering what would happen if I really
Revolt against these persistent shoe bites

But they looked good on me, they made me look taller
They tightened my calves and my self esteem
They were well received, even applauded, socially
And women who wore them in pictures, looked very happy
All this being said, they were devouring my feet (and my happiness)

One Saturday, I woke up and stepped out barefoot
On the grass outside.
Then I called the nice lady at the nail spa
And took my feet for a relaxing pedicure
Lavender, mint and chocolate butter
Tenderly soaked all the blisters and abrasions
I covered the wounds with mickey mouse band aids
And bought the softest pair of socks and sneakers.

I came home and saw the monsters on the shoe rack
I could sense my big toes choking up
With the burden of the upcoming Monday morning..
I picked them up and threw them out.
Because, none of my worldly rationalizing
Was worth spending all my life,
Enduring those happiness destroying shoe bites.


 

Nothing

In the end this means nothing!
Ecstasy turns to happiness and then fades off
Into an empty void, that longs for more
Or a piercing heartbreak, shakes us to the core
And then turns into a memory, that makes us weep for a while
And then just turns to that physically untraceable moment in the past
Getting blunt under the weight of all the new ones..

Why do we have to go to the romantic explanation
Of the very cliched kind, that everything, yes!
Everything happens for a reason.
Sometimes, the reason is just the fact that we are here
In this space and time, partly by choice and in part
Due to the helplessness that arises from being born.

Best Friends

In the middle of all this chaos
Of putting together broken fragments
Of stories that decided to tell themselves
Quite differently than what we would've liked,
Without changing our role as the protagonist!

Of all the revolutions and rebellions
Of trying to get into shoes that just didn't fit,
Or were too pretty to be comfortable,
And walking around with blisters for weeks
Of getting on the scale every single morning
Hungry, sore and obsessed.

Of endless comparisons, with ourselves, with others
With them, who have never walked with us
Or stood by us, with their shoulders ready for our tears
Or their arms, ready for a hug.

Of the often misguided thought, of being too important
Or the equally pointless assumption
That we are not important at all
Then, sinking into the couch with a bowl of ice cream
Just accepting that we are, and that is all there is to it!

Of all the frogs and the imposter princes
The lost patronizers, always eager
To help us find our way in life!
Men showing up late,
And men who have met more books than people,
In their sad, solitary lives.

In this constant evaluation and sorting
Of people and situations, successes and failures,
How often, and how consciously
Do we celebrate,
Having a  friend by our side?

Michigan Sunsets

First, the sky turns pink and blue
Then, the descent begins
Smearing the horizon with an orange hue
Turning an awkward broccoli shaped cumulus
Into a magical glow cloud!

Making his way through a bunch of
Confused and scrambled cirruses 
The Sun leaves for India
Leaving us, with this sky to deal with

Maybe it is because the land is so flat
And there is nothing distracting about the fields of corn
No mountain to compete with the horizon,
That gets an endless mirror of a lake!
Or maybe, there is just more sky over Michigan

For the sunsets seem to have more color, more canvas
More soul and more melancholy
Whether it is a line of  geese, against the blushing sky
Or an intrepid bald eagle returning home
It is really difficult, to just get used to the sunsets here.