It Is Not Me


It is unusual.
I go in circles.
This day I am a bohemian
lose track of the events.

I take bath with my wrist watch
Half way through I notice.
The watch is waterproof
I reconcile.

The watch ticks. I hold it near my ear.
No worry, I say to myself.
I keep the thought of my watch
out of my mind. I finish my assignments.

I am off my mind, My tea lies cold.
I have forgotten to drink.
A black ant floats.

I run to my patio in search of a pen
Roam for a while and return.
The pen is on the writing table.
The place where it should be.

I look at myself. What is wrong with me?
I ponder.

“Meena, something is radically wrong
in the upper chamber” quips my professor.
The words heard decades ago,
echo with a force.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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