Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Unknown to me.

Guests -- unknown to me, familiar with the table. Sunlight spills onto wood, fading into the grain with passing clouds -- unknown to me. A fly, a housefly, crouches, prays in the shadow near my open book of empty lines and inky etch. Smoke spools skyward, stopped by the ceiling, floating out the open door, from the nostrils of mustached men, smooth faced men, stubble faced men -- unknown to me; my face is shaven. A large glass bottle, half empty, holds tomato sauce and residue upon its cap. One small fork with back bent spine and faded sterling sits a companion; the odd couple. Dragonfly alights on cement post, fans its wings to the sun.

On this day a school visit. A hill ascent. Blue shirts dark against the sky on clear afternoons, trousers a shade darker. Students stand beneath the peepal tree. The body above matches the body mass below -- stretching, sprawling. The future of a nation rests in the branches, the eaves of past growth, and rests from a climb to top of a hill. They stare at me, a stranger. Their ideas -- unknown to me.

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