the new york minute and indian 60 seconds..
two extremes of the same dimension..
so much to do..so less time..
i need to wait..moments won’t sublime

but what lies in the other side of the hour..
the vella me..or the grapes that are sour..
a smile at the mirror or laugh at the self..
to kill this hour would i be deft..

the streaming music..each note passing by..
do they bring close the dreaded “good bye”
the dazzling night..the drive down the road
is it dark because my eyes are closed..

the glance at the window..would the icon turn green..
the intimidating redness..am i being mean..
the invisibility of which gmail deprives..
the simplicity that..that text chat revives..

so much i blabber..so less i think..
the expected volley..the unexpected dink..
moments go by..so would this night..
would wait for the morning..warm and bright..

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