Poem: Fireheads on a holiday

Finally, a holiday. A long-planned forced holiday. Most of still reeling from the work, like fire burning in our heads. Call us fireheads trying to cool off.

Poem: Fireheads on a holiday

Listen to the quiet hum.
The air conditioner is at work.
Chill blast that freezes a human.
A luxury, now spiteful.
Winter clothes in summer.
Because we can afford first class.
Contrived convenience.

A poet and a singer try their wares
With a disinterested audience
Talk politics and current affairs
Everyone wants a bite.
A delicacy that passes by
No takers, fearful of upset stomachs.

Everyone seems wise
Cliched opinions and quick nods.
Only the childhood tales of mischief
Bring out the heartful laughs.
The façade is broken finally
A midnight raid of the refused snack box
Finally, the fireheads in the train
Cool down for a holiday.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2024

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