There I Go

I sleep every other day,
in the afternoons. In a way 
it is innate coming 
from my mother.

Summer has set in early,
mercury rises unceremoniously,
unmindful of the heat, I rest 
on the plain floor.

Milkman motors through 
the garden, Hoots without 
a stop. Cursing him
I try to rise.

Lo! my head revolves
 eyes rotate ,the ceiling 
comes down, floor 
goes up.

I lie, still, clutching 
the pillow. It lasts 
for a second.  I resume 
my balance and sit up.

The milkman continues 
yelling ” amma, amma”.