Driving on a lower Manhattan evening
Of changing shapes and darkness
Between boxes of flats
Climbing awkwardly
One over another
Against a silkscreen sky
I lookup and see lights
Twinkling in windows
And wonder
Who might be staying there
Can it be you, Aavantika
Can it be just you
You stood once
Behind palace window panes
Of rising river feelings
Asking yourself questions
Of streets that ended
In storms
Of flower-drops
That started a fire
Of sunshine
That brought a smile
In your eyes,
Of you and me
And a gypsy tabla beat in the rain.
I stopped at a traffic signal
On a left half turn tantrum lane
Looking at the horizon
Rushing under my car wheels
Reaching you

by Dr. Amitabh Mitra
February 18, 2007