The phone doesn’t vibrate and I sink further into thought,
Am i god’s unwanted child left ignored in a gutter of the by-lanes of this inter-web overwrought?
I look up and look up again in vain on the right top corner but that tiger’s eye beautiful orange dot, doesn’t glow.
I crave a knock at my virtual doors – don’t you know?
These doors and walls are tall and strong and fragile like my ego and they wont let you in for you’re not here but somewhere else – where i know not.
When i built me this lovely glass house, it was not to be a prison but a lookout tower – or so i had thought.
When did I transmogrify from a real flesh and blood out-and-about social soul to this – a like hound tethered virtually to this virtual world?
Like a Pavlovian reflex these make-believe touches from people I shall never see determine my smiles and sometimes I wait long enough for dinner to go cold.
Hi India 