The Motion In Motive
a virtual chapbook of poetry and prose
AND A WORK IN GRAPHIC PROGRESS
In the cubicle,
with the artificial light,
I cannot tell the time of the day.
Even a glass window will do.
A door to the sky
A key to the sun's whereabouts.
Today, a long meeting in a conference room on the second floor.
With some blinds slightly open, I could see the palm trees outside.
I saw the 81 go towards Frye.
A building in the far, a store whose sign I could not make out.
When I saw the next bus,
I knew it was half an hour since I spotted the last bus.
Poem © 2008 Prasanna Surakanti, all rights reserved
appears here by permission