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01/27/09 - (1)
Dog-Tired
Long after you awakened into this dawn's bristling frigidity, Last night's dream kept dogging you, Snarling, snapping at your psyche's ankles, cuffs, Its frenzied mouth frothing. It brought your forward motion to a crawl, Rendered you all but locked in inertia's jaws, A victim of your own machinations.
Even as the focused potency of that dream dissipated, It continued to beleaguer you, roil your agitation. Though at work, there you were, still failing to hail a taxi, In midtown Manhattan, at the height of a snow typhoon. The only vehicles that offered to give you a lift were sleds Pulled by yelping teams of huskies, passing full tilt — Overcrowded Mumbai-to-Bangalore railway cars on fire.
Just before dawn, a phantom bus, shuddering on half-tracks, Like a wounded stag beetle, Pulled alongside your frozen corpse, backed over you, Then pressed ahead, leaving your mangled shadow bleeding. Whether your red bedsheets were the scarlet sunrise or not, You dressed for your job, got there, right on time, Albeit dragging, dog-tiredness tugging at your cuffs.
01/27/09 - (1)
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