bliss station ~ poetry

looking in

my old classmate startles me on the phone, he says -

I can't say yesterday anymore,
no hello nothing, I can't say yesterday
because I don't know if today is one, waking up, dozing off, waking up
with my head clamped in a book.
they don't make good pillows.
exams are in april. I have no time
but I can't count time on my fingers
if I can't say yesterday.

you're studying english literature.
do they teach tense -
past, present, future -
all that stuff?

no, I say, but we have harry potter next semester.
there is magic there.

bo two things are ever the same -
the last cake smells different
from the next for one too many
of something something.

each sunset, the clouds are different,
& there are different clouds.

yesterday, my mother turned in her sleep, writhing, struggling
to keep the hot-water-bag
on parts that hurt the most.

today, she smiles & says she feels 75% better, describes her yesterday
over the phone with the metaphor
of a tree with twisted gnarled roots.

each smile, some muscle in its own mood smiles.

I call-back my friend - you can say yesterday, no sorry nothing.
you can say yes-ter-day,
they're just sounds in a mouth. go, take a walk yesterday morning, see?

walk along the Ordnance Factory Road, they don't make shells there anymore, do they?

They don't, he answers, not today.

~Ajay
17/11/2019