Cocktail

Moving through a drowsy evening i am a different kind of peaceful. 

A cocktail of a cocktail, 

just enough of a morning with old friends 

on the verge of separating for a long time 

without trying to realize it, 

reluctant heat of an indifferent city and a different set of meaningless memories 

that i do not talk about. Almost unprecedented. 

It is as though whatever is pushing me away and whatever entices me 

have balanced their stakes, shaken hands over diplomacy and declared a ceasefire suddenly forgetting what was at the table. I am unconcerned. 

That which pulls me in a direction is out of sight and i am stranded. 

Today is not the yesterday for tomorrow. 

I am not anyone for anybody. 

There is no home. Nothing is good or bad. I am not what they call me. 

Nor am i what i am not. I am not indifferent. Or peaceful.

Nothing really exists as is. I do not either.  

And what i say is not in the ambit of being true or false.