I imagine myself being hit by a speeding sedan
Over and over again.
I allow red water balloons to splatter in my mind during prayer.
I look on, as once more the pariah silently slipping in between
the black hedges, is somehow always returning.
I walk through the traffic of men, and cannot match their urgency.
I am secretly terrified by purpose.
Sometimes, I feel the sky shallower here in this city.
It’s streetlamps which spill everywhere; are beautiful orange,
and unconsoling.
Adithya Patil is a student and poet based in Bangalore, India. His poems have appeared in different journals including Modern Literature, Borderless Journal and most recently in Muse India.
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