WINTER IS SO BOURGEOIS

Adjusting the volume
Of his Sedan subwoofer,
Where Begum Akhtar's Raag Kafi
Shrilled lifeless through
Electric diodes.
The reverence of Snowfall made him stop.
Picking up his magnanimous snoot camera,
He captured Snowfall in every aesthetic angle;
Under the shade of that incandescent light bulb
Where
Snow threads weaved metaphysical patterns
Capturing a shadow,
Limping through snow.
"How poetical this all is, " he thought to himself.
He couldn't wait to show
The magic he had captured
To his significant artistic circle.
And that Kafkaesque shadow
Wandering through snowy desert.
He pressed the button,
Glasses came up,
Started his AC to warm a bit.
With rising Raag Kafi he was gone,
Leaving behind the Kafka shadow -
Not a shadow
But a body,
But a soul -
Cold
And shivering.
He had not forgotten the umbrella,
But left it deliberately, so that
His little brother could use it.
Like mad thoughts, snow had
Crept its way through a hole inside his shoe.
His foot felt like an old sunken ship
Deep inside Antarctica.
He pulled it out.
"Winter is unpoetical of all the seasons, "
He thought to himself
While he wrung his damp socks.