What happens between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
The head swings to and fro like a madman’s drunk legs

Liquor stores—closed,
Pensive eyes long to wassail till 4 a.m.
I guess I’ve become old—
Even drinking is boring these days

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
People shut themselves inside their temporary huts
There’s no jollification on the fingertips of the street person
Cold chews the subject’s homeless heart

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
The streets of New Baneshwor confront me bluntly
I punch it with villainous stare
It runs away and steals tzedakah from the city
Now no one worries for others

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Men dig, dig, dig
And bright lights give them company
This heart smiles thinking about the nation’s progress

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
These eccentric fingers visit the machine twice
While mind goes away wandering, lost somewhere in the concrete woods
Moon licks the hand,
Silver-fingered.

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
New Baneshwor appears veridical
But only for a moment—
Winter chases me away
To the hut
That puts me to sleep.

Between 9 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Life becomes an adventure.