(returning to Bombay after November 26, 2008) <br /> <br />This time we didn't circle each other <br />hackles raised, <br />fur bristling. <br /> <br />This time there was space <br />between us - <br />and we weren't competing. <br /> <br />Space enough and more <br /> <br />for the nose-digging librarian <br />and her stainless steel tiffin box, <br /> <br />for the Little Theatre peon to read me <br />his Marathi poems <br />on rainy afternoons <br /> <br />for the woman on the 7.10 Bhayandar slow <br />with green combs in her hair <br />to say <br />and say again, <br />He's coming to get me. <br />He's coming <br /> <br />This time <br />the city surged <br />towards me <br /> <br />mangy <br />bruised-eyed <br />non-vaccinated <br /> <br />suddenly <br />mine.<br /><br />Arundhathi Subramaniam<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-city-and-i/
