Average Lives

Chapter 1 

You first open your eyes 

to unseen forms and colours. 

She stares at you with tearful eyes 

Swaddling you with calm whispers 

Of a familiar lullaby. 

Chapter 2 

She looks at you from the other end 

Cheering for you with clear, unknown words, 

You stretched your little feet down,  

Rubbed your heels against the smudged carpet,

Following her voice with uncoordinated feet,

Waddling closer, swiftly, like a magnet to a fridge. 

Chapter 3 

‘Say mommy’ she chanted over, and over. 

Listen how she holds the sound with pursed lips 

And how they are released, all at once, 

Streams of melody flowing up and about.

‘Say mommy’ once again you try to vocalise 

But your lips clap twice; ‘ba-ba’. 

Chapter 4 

You haul a cart full of books—unexplored. 

Red walls towered, rowdy kids—uniformed. 

Curious and keen, they stood there—looking. 

Two rowdy kids named Nick and Tara—friends. 

Nick, with whom you exchanged your lunch— 

grapes and pears. 

Tara, with whom you liked to be around— 

just friends.

Chapter 5 

Caps of Fanta bottles, spinning through a breeze of dust,

Car toys - crashed, under the mat,

Your mother’s eyes, locked on your luggages, 

An airplane ticket lays aside—one-way.

She scans your brows, your nose, your mouth, 

Bristles have sprung from your chin— 

Darker and thicker. 

Chapter 6 

Comb, wash, shave, feel your veins throbbing.

A look, a touch, a flick to dry out the shiny ink. 

Grab your pen with awkward hands and pull away; 

You only play with friends, and unexpected games. 

You blush, she stares, she asks for your pen— 

You’re lost, looking for the shiny ink. 

Chapter 7 

You never noticed how the water dripped 

Drop by drop became a stream— 

Crawling skilfully under your door, 

Dampening the pages of your memories, 

Consumed by her arrogant, lust-rous flames, 

Fuelled by the self-doubt of your wine. 

Chapter 8 

Crowds drowning Tara’s whitish dress, 

Dancing across the red-brick floors, 

Drumming their fingers, on hips and ribs, 

In unison with you, the friendless tree.

You, once again you pull away ’just friends’, 

Careful not to burst into her new life with Nick. 

Chapter 9 

Six, eight, ten, you wake up again, 

One, three, eight, you roll back in bed — 

Six, seven numbers pound in your head, 

Two, five, ten, the same old train, 

Fifteen past six, spread jam on bread — 

Two to nine, one to nine, the dog eats at nine. 

Chapter 10 

You go to visit your mother‘s house—

Without your mother inside 

No Tara, no car, no dog, no mom; 

Not any more. 

Just a letter smeared 

With shiny ink. 

Like the smudged carpet 

Under your feet.