Satish Verma
Difficult Choice
If a gadget turns
you on, and I cannot
listen the voiceless
music, how would
we meet in parasynthesis?
A parakeet lifts the long
tail to climb on―
the grill to watch the
sweep of clouds, whistling
past, when the world
was mud-splattered.
Take my hand and hold
the queer. I was never me
in the maddening crowd.
I listen to only my body.
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