Walk into the day
and hand over
familiar looks
to strangers
Sip loneliness
out of your head
at night
After all
this is the only menu
given by many moods
of the sun
so that the tired cat
waves at all parrots
and goes out of town
But tonight curtains are raised
The grey continent
of your shadow
climbs to the terrace
Second-hand paintings
from walls
pass comments
or suggestions
to start off a conversation
“I could have helped but
my hands have this baby”
“Put your left foot on the pipe
are you new?”
“I am going for my wedding
would you like to join?”
After these diversions
you enter a room
where your mother
plucks a song
from the mountain
of tilting homes
for you and you
rest one eye
on her head
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