Coincidence

These are the Heisenberg days of my life,

I am often in two places at once. Things

have begun to coalesce, days into weeks,

months into years. Things slip

into the hence, like shadows of people on

Rashbehari avenue.

Last evening I spied on the dahlias

from the verandah whilst you read

from The Statesman, an obituary of

Bidhan Roy. I am never quite sure

Of your political proclivity,

whether to agree or disagree, it all

depends on what’s for tea.

The lady,

in 40C calls her son, Babu,

back from the gloom,

barely audible over the bald Marwari

shouting into his cell phone. 
Is it a coincidence then,
that the dahlias are in bloom?