You bite an apple and all you can imagine

is people hollering as you blaze away on a plush leather seat

you want to bask in stale cold air while you shut yourself
to the wind yelling all around you
to look, to see
to come out of your reverie
until a trail of fury is left in its wake

You bite an apple and all you can imagine

is neon signs flashing by,
your hand raises to your temple and you
don't even stop yourself from closing your eyes

You bite an apple and all you can imagine

is a rickety bus,
a rush of metal so powerful
you wonder how it would taste

on the tip of your tongue

you see the swarm of people inside
with supreme disdain,
their bodies so close to each other
the stench so pungent,
they gently sway, the 'lucky' ones staring out the windows

a smirk plays on your lips, they
might have been like cockroaches in a dusty shoebox,
but then you have only ever seen the inside of a new one,
guinea pigs

you don’t know.

You bite an apple and all you can imagine

is a tree
your face
(oh, so gloriously contorted!!) *click*
with some bags *click*
and clothes *click*
ruffled hair
tats and bruises
*click* *click* *Click*

on glass. Smudged.

you feel comforted.

You bite an apple

and what you don't imagine

is strangers with memories

stacks of yellowish paper with scratches in cardboard boxes,
long forgotten

You don't imagine

baby socks that were never worn

a man tickled by a moustache as he leans in to kiss
or the silent cringing disgust all around as he did

You don't imagine all of this, 
and you never will.


Howrah, West Bengal

An aspiring writer and theatre actor, Ritesh Khandelwal is a student of English by day and moonlights as the Dark Knight by night (or so he wishes). Along with irregular attempts at tackling writer's block and general lethargy, he listens to catchy theme songs of cult TV shows, and voraciously reads comic books. Feel free to contact him at if you would like to know more about his writing or if you can fix up an appointment for him with Neil Gaiman and/or Jon Stewart.