Disconnect is that one extra passenger
in a crowded transport.
Today it is between strangers.
Tomorrow it will catch up with chums.
When bards brood, it whispers to say
that it runs the whole world.
I request a private audience
and question, "What about trust?"
There is a villainous guffaw announcing
"Trust is a means and I am the end"
It prides itself in being the scissors
that cuts the umbilical cord.
I object and turn its chin
to the chirping lovers on the bench.
A laughter that knows the answer, quips
"Their nearness is the density of disconnect"
I sigh and point the picnic party on the grass.
There is silence for a moment and then it strikes
Don't you see the children scooping out
their parents lives and leaving them to the wind?
Weaker and lighter like those plastic cups.
I stroll a bit towards the pond and bend
to see the lotus growing out of the muck.
At such a precarious posiiton I push it
and as expected, there are no ripples.