Two Acts

Act 1

I was lying down on the sofa waiting for daybreak. I was sleeping and I was seeing everything through that sleep.

In that sleep I was thinking with clarity. But I did not think of him. I thought only of his body, wrapped up in the shroud and lying on the table. As if awaiting autopsy.

I waited not only for sunrise, but for something else too.

Act 2

“And you left me alone with him”. She was on the verge of tears.

She could have as well put it this way – “And you left me alone with his body”.

As if she doesn’t know my inability to love.

Art

On my way to office
I saw something on the pavement today.
It showed life’s paradoxes better than any novelist.
It wept life’s sad-happinesses better than any poet.

It was art born from earth’s fertile concrete womb;
no art had ever been this true, this complete.

And as usual with such things, it vanished the moment I recognized it.