Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Changra Chick 42 : Umbra. Penumbra. Umbra.

You sat in the same room, though I was in a different time zone.

Our spaces were marked out by the boundaries of our lamplights.

There were 3 of us, there are 2 of us.

There was A from Delhi and A from Blore. There were the As from Canada.

A cat. For each of us. And a dog , for who the dog chose to be with.



We could do out thing. Math or maps. Corrections and scribble.

Daydream and reality planning. We read.

We looked around. We looked through the iron rods and the wooden shutters.

We could play a few notes. On the piano. Or the guitar. Or with our pencils. Or just with our fingers on the nearest wooden surface ( which was just about everywhere).

The laptop played in later years. Prince of Persia and James Bond. And the cats too.

Till one realized he loved the owner for the ipod she had.

And another could sit and stare at the moving cursor on the screen for hours, not being able to figure out the wireless, noiseless mouse.

One cat gtalked. And another squeezed herself into a little ball, fitted into my current bag or cap, and under the lamp.

We spoke little. And moved away for a bit to come back to our lampzones.

Three lamps in one room.



I liked that you could kind of still watch my reading. Will you choose me a book again ?

And that you asked us for lyrics.

I will never play again. I can only read.

Will you watch me read ? And play me a song?

Will you read your newspapers all over the bed all through the day?

And do your crossword. While we look up a map, or thesaurus ?



You have new movies now. And I have a new notebook.

Isn’t that enough reason ,rhyme and rationale for us to cohabitate again?

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