This weather is the worst.
It makes people sick!
Sometimes, like a cold blanket
And sometimes, like an over-fed fire place.
This city isn’t Hawaii
Covered by warm, clear skies
With the sound of waves rushing
Into the lands,
Large noise of motorbikes,
The swarm of office-going bees,
And the occasional azaan in the air.
But the large buildings
Rusting into time
Have cast long shadows
Enough, have you taunted me,
Walk out of the cloudy skies!
And shine forth your glamourous shine
I am a poor boy in lack of Vitamin D.
white eyes of Bellagio Suites
stare into the crisp shadows hiding me–
forming from men hanging their day’s spent
on parallel lines of black cable wires
their now drenched, detergent smelling jerseys
leaves puddles on hot terraces.
While, I stand
Smell of coffee wafting
the yellow lights yellower than a jaundice patient
brighten more than the neighbor;s dusty car
I feel breezy
and hear caressing. Like waves falling one on top of other.
forming a effervescent froth on the top; a taste of saline
Fish pickled in vinegar.
But honestly, these silent beings,
made of flesh and concrete
steel and blood
to my constant chatter
only speaking among the shadows
their long bodies cast.
But when I look,
far and wide;
a city far away
with far less people
with nevertheless, a million lights.