Friday, February 2, 2007

my vocabulary is weak

One winter morning.
She was dressing up
a black pant
and black coat
and me with my sleepy eyes
looked at her
when she asked, “do i look good?”
i nodded my head
but i could hardly see her

she left me with fifty bucks
and headed
to the road
to get the bus
to reach the institute
where she teaches
“Romeo and Juliet”
with her westernized accent.

but she doesn't know
there is too a living romeo for her
which was never written
in any of the Shakespeare's play

she gambles with my life
like she wears fragile bangles
every time she hits the table
me get broken
the scar in my forearms
remind how stupid of me
to react the way i did

She told me
what does jalopy
mean and said my vocabulary
is very weak
She corrected my poems
She has the license
given by the Professors

She cajole her eyes
make it blacker than charcoal
even before she sleeps
she made her sister straighten her hair
she seeks the split ends and chop it
like she often chops me with her reaction
she dances in front of the mirror
with her blunt boundary lips
smiling at the reflection
of herself in the mirror.

It was another morning
not so cold
not so late
not so early
she sighs and said:
“i cant be responsible
for everyone”
i overheard it

again she left me for the place,
where she teaches
contemporary literature,
classic stuff,
wearing her black coat
i was left alone
i cleaned the room
and took a bath
and headed for the place
where i do day dream
and hum my sleep
suddenly i got a message saying;
“ where are you my love,
i m going for the birthday party
see you later.”

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