There's an obscenity to public travel,
Distinct from the romance of love,
akin to rivalry.
Just you the traveller against
them the savages,
Sweaty bodies against your tired silhouette,
clamouring to tumble into a single room,
consent or not.
It is a savage act
when bereft of rules.
And yet,
when fingers do not flail upwards,
like children swiping bugs,
and sweat doesn't tease down your spine,
You sit
in ample space
watch grab handles pirouette,
swivel in unison,
like ballet dancers with army discipline,
the window sprinkles a gentle light
winds caress your tired eyes,
For a moment
'them and you' become 'us and I'
a teacher back from a harrowing class,
a GRP constable catching her breath,
a hawker testing her own haul.
For a short respite, until "पुढील स्थानक" arrives,
We become a single organism.
The above poem is for the NaPoWriMo2022. Day 14. Good mood continues!
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