BOXES

Little Raju found a spare box

Empty, brown: not much to talk of.

He stared wide-eyed at the flaps on the side

Just like wings on an airplane ride!



He wore those broken old glasses

With an upside down bowl on his head

And just like that Raju was flying

Across continents and three heavens.



The wind flung his hair and dried his mouth

The cape on his shoulder fluttered wildly about

Left, right, tumble around

Life ought to be seen upside down.



Then came Violet: big and strong

Not the protector-of-the-weak sort

One look at his little flying machine

And the evil cogs in her head spun crazily around.



A kick and a blow

One-two-three-four

A bucket of water

No plane no more.



Two and twenty years have gone

Little Raju has moved on

To computers and cameras and games and girls

Oh, and he’s not little any more.



Sober clothes he wears

A funeral to attend

To pretend to regret

Death of an old acquaintance.



He wasn’t surprised

To find a big brown box

With Violet inside

Oh, and she’s not strong anymore.



Memories trickle in

Like a leaking cardboard box

But he can’t ignore

The flaps on her side, like an airplane ride.