A cow shits lazily at your entrance.
Several other media plug into you like you’re a giant, heaving, living spikebuster like you’re a diabetic heart on the verge of cardiac arrest.
I ascend your steps with the lazy confidence of familiarity.
Others do not share this with me.
This place throngs with frightened microbes who pat their left and right pockets to see if anyone’s stolen their wallets and phones.
None of them trust each other. All of them trust you.
I am not here to go anywhere. You are not a means to an end nicer than You are not grimy heat I must suffer through. You are everything to me.
You’ll find me by the enquiries office drinking cheap tea and looking away from the moon.
I am only here for you.
David Mathew is an Indian who grew up in the Middle East and is currently a student at St. Stephen’s College, Delhi. He finds himself fascinated by surrealism, confused perspectives and how the human spirit deals with trauma. He tries his hand at prose fiction, nonfiction, poetry, theatre and cinema with varying degrees of success.