Poem: Still

Seven hours in constant motion
Traffic, noise, madness, commotion
Crowded airport. Terminal right in the end
Car, bus, plane, a rickety auto and my limbs
Blackberry rings. Demands attention
The head spins, the body tired and spent
Not even sighting the beautiful big grey sea
Rejuvenates a cranky and exhausted me
Then across a door, two lost puppy dog eyes appear
And I no longer want anything to be still
…Next weekend is going to be another repeat drill.
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TTW is a comic book loving Desi in search of greater intellectual pursuits like any other Gaysi. She is passionate about shawarma rolls, immersive theatre, conversion theories, television, transformers and Dr. McDreamy. Her #SuperConversionPowers enable her to transform from a Corporate Crusader by day to a Comic Camper by night. And yes, she time travels to an India which no longer has the anti queer provisions in Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code.

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