An Episode Poem by Pinaki Dewan

As I pick the neatly dropped disgruntlement, I am invaded by an abrupt interest in the sensation of concinnity, a sudden act of true kindness. It is as if a mellifluous pain stung in the battered dark, a dwindling susceptibility stemming like half a ripple and half a quake, it is a newfangled emotion, a sentiment born of sentiments. I say, shall you not regret being impervious. And she, I am in a quandary, that is why I choose to remain such. I take her hand, bring it close to my lips, in a fashion of most men conniving a kiss, blow softly, appreciate the shiver in her skin and let it go. But can she let me go now? I wait. And she is so far from tranquil, it almost brings a smile to my face. I pick up a lowball from the waiter passing by and sip hard. It is time. The night will come crashing down soon. She knows as well. She starts walking to the exit. I follow suit. As we leave, the lights go out. And there is a sweeping silence blindfolded, lost.