Unbelief

A detritus of malaise, tugs at my solitary hour. There was a question of stature amongst the old fractured feet. What was it which made you feel taller than your own son ? I was looking at the antlers of a deer, his round eyes were full of pallor, I begin to talk in his tongue. The terror of a man, a speeding car, my childhood, moving in the dark corridor, afraid of the unending highways. SATISH VERMA