the air-conditioning keeps the temper in check,
when the refrain goes on —
“there will be a short delay to this service,
we apologize for the inconvenience.”
the convenience is not a matter of concern
for empty faces that only think of pocket-sized
dreams, the delay is but a pause to this pau-
city of time, the one so accommodating of high
-rises as well as the debris of urban dreams,
there is a silence in the noise, the quizzical
faces look at each other, to the wrists, to find
out a kernel of truth, a certain wonderment
at being out of place and time, disenfranchised
in intervals from lifelines, and the tepid train-
journeys. there is a marked departure from
routine and no one knows what to do with it.
it doesn’t require much charge of reverie or
luminescence of this compartment to diffuse,
before the doors close & everything moves on.
the city is ingrained deep inside all of us, as
we all jolt awake to the further announcement,
this time, of the next station and what it means.
life hangs like an unbalanced question-mark
before it dissipates and feet rush out like faith.
© Anmol Arora
(Inter)National Poetry Month