These pages in my hand
Keep slipping by.
Not because they wanted to,
Nor because, they don’t like me reading
them. But because I am sitting
besides of a table fan.
The blades of it rotate
The roundness of its face - flat.
Stares back, time after time ..just in case
As if to check,
to make sure you moved or even slightly shifted.
to the extent, 'did-it already and managed to fake!
It is its work – to blow air.
The nodding it does, does but scares me to hell.
When that I am not looking
you can find it staring
back, with vicious drooling,
Much similar to a cow grazing
in the field, tied to a pole
without any visible
ringing bell.
It as fan! Not your relative, friend or foe.
But then also,
it oozes air with the same informality,
of a strange stranger nearing you,
while finding your face, hung desperately low.
And suddenly the strangeness disappear,
‘goes for a tossing blow',
When you find him belting out a scream
in your very ear. That can induce the blush
in the blackest of a crow.
“I want to read this book.”
I want to tell this on his face,
of that hefty table fan.
But it’s not an object that listens!
when you speak and slam.
It just nods. Here and there.
That is what it does good. And,
I am not the one, quite so used to the idea,
Of a person, ‘who talks back and fro.
Not particularly to those jerky faces that only stare.
and do nothing, blind and fast,
back at you.
..making you feel them,
as they lack!
And also hear them say;
“you think I give a fuck?”
that being the damn singeing attitude true.
Well I can turn it off.
..I can. I think!
I just have to push a switch,
But the day is being a bitch
the humid weather turning hot
out to be
just a little more humid.
Few more pages to go
and that's it, I am off, ….not?
But it is taking unnecessary,
so much time.
does it is think it's Lara Croft
dangling on a vine?
…to get past a single one.
The TV showing pictures
of some cops chasing a high speed crime.
I am delayed because I am here;
‘In the middle of this sweating, blowing
And the fan staring
all around...everywhere.
This right here is, of what can only be described,
as the not-so-everyday scene,
from....
one of those scary horror movies.
Those movies you fear,
and that some of which you substitute
for the cheap thrills of a porn
made on a budget that doesn't exceed
a single penny or a dime.
...OMG! this here is surely going
somewhere utterly wrong.
