Ice/Heat Syndrome

 

 Encounter last, in the last Ice Age.

 

We meet again, but oddly that age has not yet melted in you!

 

Bound within an inner Antarctica

you forgot everything, the bright sunshine and

flowers blooming in the ill-kept backyard.

 

To-day, the fiery desert turns into ice!

You talk into your cell-phone, lost to time-space continuum

stuck up in a warp, reminiscent of an actor with Greek masks

while I stir coffee politely, hoping to catch a sideways glance.

 

The coffeehouse is crowded.

The young!

Boisterous!

I am stuck in a freezing plain

near the window-table, gazing at the pavement

kissed by a California-sun, this late afternoon.

 

Or, is it Mumbai/Madrid.

Places no longer matter.

We are identical!

 

An Icelander myself,

I have never found so many ice-sculptures in

the post-modern city of Istanbul

Or, the sandy town of  the famed Timbuktu.

 

How a creative mind wanders!

 

Folks carry freezing plains in their souls,

while toiling children carry---

dancing splinters of the sunlight

in their weary eyes and tiny hands

their laughter animating dead urban space.