Draped in a single breast,
Smoking a cigar,
In the coupe driven by chauffeur.
Held that daily rag of old world,
Folded into half, without a mark.
The engine roared like never before
At 80 miles per hour.
Occasionally I peeped
Through tinted glasses,
Only to find the texture of my coupe in their dreamy eyes.
Felt proud, like an affluent king-
Who has not one, not two, rather infinite wings.
There I was-
At the top of this poor world.
Listening to the symphonies of Mozart.
Swiftly I was heading
Towards the palace of their dreams.
Costlier than the cost of their costliest dreams,
Larger than the world they have seen.
Sipping the best breed of malt,
I thought of them:
Why are they like this?
Marooned in the open, without a roof,
Clogged with soils and sands.
How could they be so poor?
There stood my milestone-
Beaming brilliantly like a gold,
Like that loyal pug waiting for its Lord.
Here I am-
In dark, all of a sudden!
Restless I feel, who
Wants to break free
From what?
Don't know why?
Don't know how?
Feeling as if,
Someone howls over my head.
Deja Vu! Is it?
Neither do I find any palace
Nor my coupe in red.
All I find is me, lying relentlessly on the bed.
Here I am-
Half naked in that old torn rag.
Thinking silently on who I am?
Is it how I think?
Or this is how they see.
In a quest to learn
I take my steps out of nothing
To search a coupe in red.
© rakesh pandey, 2013
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