poetry: tropic of yes

July 08, 2010

 it was late night or early in the day

when she said he wasn't making sense
he replied he does so by choice

he is a whimsical gypsy
between the tropic of yes
the equator of maybe
and the tropic no
feeling at ease
at all the dhabas*

both in the land
of vertical nods
and in the land
of sideways neck jerk
people share the trait
the yesses, nos and maybes
whirl in eclectic ecstasy
chasing peripheral tails
compounding confoundment

the multitudes though inhabit
the waste lands of wiggles
where yesses collides with nos
and the sea of uncertainty
pirouttes around the maybes

he said he does so by choice

whirling, am unsure
if he is right
but true to my self
am uncertain if she is right

road side eateries

love people who are in awe of words. words are the sole arbiter and the final survivor. desicritic editor, slave and slave-driver.
eXTReMe Tracker
Keep reading for comments on this article and add some feedback of your own!

Comments! Feedback! Speak and be heard!

Comment on this article or leave feedback for the author

Add your comment

Personal attacks are not allowed. Please read our comment policy.

Remember Name/URL?

Please preview your comment!