I feel the cold stone floors sometimes,
In my mind when I miss
Desperately seeking his mother’s assistance.
I remember the public transport and the masters of speed.
Who overcharge, overwhelm, oversteer and overload
Your senses with curses, black smoke, busted suspensions and broken meters.
And then there was the rain.
I recall the nights of relentless staring
At the 17 inch LCD screen that somehow
Held together my monthly wage,
And the daily pack of Navy Cut that I cherished so.
I reminisce about the game nights,
The wanton screaming fuelled by litres of Kingfisher and the proponent of good highs.
A late, albeit goliath bite at the only eatery open at 3 am,
Followed by an afternoon of peace that silently made its presence felt.
I relive those bass-filled drives with
Absent friends and a clear head.
A quick stop at a gas station to replenish the depleted chocolate stock
And pose for photographs with random strangers in the background.
I play the tunes that we used to think we composed
Out of sheer nonchalance and alcohol-induced indulgence.
Don’t take me wrong: we had our moments of pure genius
And more moments of sheer senselessness.
I correlate the good times gone bad and
The bad times that miraculously morphed into the great.
Somehow, between the shades they met with a clear conscience,
Striking a deal to keep misery at hand’s length.
I contemplate the differences and the similarities.
So much of them we had, refusing to let them stand the in way
Of a higher cause that vaguely resembled hope.
The reflection slowly fades, like ripples on the surface
Ease their turbulent energy, pacifying themselves.
Conjoined ideas shimmer under a clear moonlit sky
As friends join hands to pass around a solitary ember,
Wishing the smoke never dissipates.
