Train of "Thoughts"

The late Ramazan nights are warm still,
september sweaty.
A gibbous moon stares at my window-sill,
quarter-bald, fatty.

I sit lazily on the bare floor,
half cool.
My laptop rests on my crossed knees
all warm.

My fingers type slowly,
calling, recalling;
creating, recreating;
carving, moulding;
making abstractions -
palpable,
tangible.
I ponder hard and pause,
ben a note and plink;
click backspace and pause
type again and think.

I poke a thought with my finger,
turn it round and round,
between tommy and peter,
squash my plastishine mound.
I shape it into a caricature;
a burlesque, a miniature;
color it amethyst and midnight blue
camouflaging its real hue.
I roll it into a ping-pong ball,
play table-tennis in my mental hall.

I recline - sleepy, and fold a yawn,
talk softly with my clay pawn...
I revv up - excited, and flash a smile,
wink mischeviously at my mauve nile...
Enamoured, I charm them;
battered, I harm them;
they flourish, they suffer,
my fellows - my thoughts.

I love them, I hate them,
I often re-create them;
They tease me, appease me,
nervously, they seize me...
I shun them, I stun them;
oftimes abandon them;
They shoo me, they woo me,
they never misconstrue me...
My soul-mates - my thoughts!


Sep 11th, '08.