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Observations while house hunting


The front yard of the house has grown to be a pile.
The backyard has become a gift.
The rooms of the house, a mirror.
The kitchen, a filter.
The entrance of the house stays a place.
The house is still reflecting a prayer.

After a family of five shifted,
the house shares stories of living
with dogs, cats, rats, leaves and crows.

That there is life in their house even after they leave
came from discovering a quadrilateral of dust.
Perhaps it was the post-its revising.

There was a carcass of a lizard
stuck at the end of the tube light holder,
light sketch of a tiger on a wall
(carrying an umbrella on its head).

All pieces and prominences.
None which can be removed naturally:

"Now"
"Wake me at 4. (alternative: water bucket)"
"Going to not come back"
"Happy birthday Gillu"
"AIIMS - 5 June"
"Aipmt - 24 April"
"Clat - 13 April"
"Ho jaega"
"Okra - ladyfinger"
"No sympathy between shit and syphilis in dictionary."

Their climber Giloy has now reached terrace
                                              meddling with every railing,
to finally move a Jamun tree,
in giving one of its branches.
They meet on edge.
Holding the smallest cotton season
of leave and left both.

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