By Dheeman Ghosh
There is loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it etched across the oblong, blind alley walls behind Broadway-
or in a hot dog salesman nervously adjusting his scarf,
while his ocean-blue eyes
still search for his love in an invisible masquerade.
There is loneliness in this world so great
that you can hear it in a street urchin’s cry
across the muddy lanes of Chandni Chowk-
streetlights dangling across weathered windowpanes,
weathered veins
that tear gray silhouette stories and broken bones apart.
There is loneliness in this world so great
that you can feel all of them murmur
as their souls dance along miles of neon haze-
or in the old lady who sits in a room across Trafalgar Square
with a photo of Cary Grant,
as her cat lies by a game of solitaire.
There is loneliness in this world so great
you remember fleeting glances
carved across crowded hallways-
with peals of laughter and fading footsteps.
But sometimes you remember
the pair of eyes that met yours,
and a smile that stays.