Why do you care?

Why are those mountains mine,
only in crusty posters
soiled with summer stains,
the snow, no more pristine white
but yellowed by the heated bulb.

Why are those brooks,
only in books of Wordsworth,
or Listerine sensitive films,
where bright sunshine yawns
on the hero’s scalp, as he chooses
to move back to his home-town

Why are deserts too hot to touch,
but in passing buses and strangers vents
Its too hot to go there,
better sit under your porch and wait
for the rain, and let some sweat
drench your suit, of skin and soot!

Why are the rapids
so slow to meet me
as if I were an out-caste
too careful for foamy pastures
hidden in crevices and cliffs
gusting into travelers hearts

Why am i stuck in the mindless signals
where red must green, or somewhere in between
And alcohol reflected on a laptop screen
is my salvation, and my holiday

Why do you smile,
when you dance through the night
to wake up a stranger
to your strange self

Why do you try to be
yourself
so pathetically poetic
numbing your life

with your own terse verse
spouted in smart adjectives
ignoring metaphors,
because,
if you step out of this room
Sodom will become salty!

(Published in Muse India: Issue 54: Mar-Apr 2014- http://www.museindia.com/regularcontent.asp?issid=54&id=4868)