It was a pathetic evening <br />Back from a busy day <br />In a cold cubicle of white spreads <br />I settle under a white quilt <br />Pale and hungry... <br />If i wanted to break from <br />My aloneness, i just needed <br />to make a call... <br />'hello, reception, ' pronounced <br />A trained voice... <br />I cradle the phone <br />I didn't want to hear groomed voices <br />They're so alike and lifeless <br />Enough to augment the aloneness <br />But why the hell should i...? <br />The pathos of the evening <br />Creaked in my joints <br />The pair of footwear in a lonesome corner <br />waited for my touch... <br />Out in a city of clamour <br />hawkers, buyers, colorful displays <br />I walk like a mannequin <br />Once in shining ebony black <br />Once in pale cold marble whiteness <br />Did anyone notice me? <br />Did they find it strange to see <br />A mannequin out on the street? <br />Saravan Bhavan... <br />Idly, dosa, blah blah... <br />The pale hungry mannequin walked in <br />The belly looking eagerly... <br />I stuff idlies into it to satiate its growls... <br /> <br />'where're you? ' the voice asked <br />'Oh, yeah! Where am i? ' <br />I quizzed in that conundrum of hunger on sale... <br /> <br />I walk back in a tube <br />Remote and distant <br />The trained world of trading <br />Blowing its lungs outside the tube...<br /><br />indira babbellapati<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/where-am-i-10/
