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by Gauri
(Bonn, Germany)

Lonely is a bunch of hair
Twirled around the forefinger
Round and round,
Tighter and tighter...

Lonely is a thumb
Playing with the fingers
One at a time
And all over again...

Lonely are legs
Crossed at the ankles
Gliding up the calf,
Bumping over the ankle
And back again once more...

Lonely are vacuous, racing, thoughts
High on LSD you never had
But threatening to burst through your skull
And splatter on the crisp, white wall you lean against...

Lonely is a curl of smoke
From a mouth twisted in irony...

Lonely is the uncontrollable urge to cry
When you hear children squeal on emerald green grass...

Lonely is what lonely does ...
to you...
When you are not watching.


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