Cold can be a pint of lager.
Cold can be a solid wall of glass.
Cold can be the air-conditioner
aimed at my cubicle from 9 to 5.
But neither your breath or sweat,
nor your exhaustion or stink.
Those are mine by right and by chauvinism.
By my egocentricity, I own their warmth.
My soul and the warmth of that air,
they are doomed to a symbiosis
approved by you.
© 2007 Ritwik Banerjee
Ritwik Banerjee is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
Entry filed under: art.