I am three persons waking up, some days a dozen
I have stopped searching the girl I was
in my mother’s yard –
I dropped her when my parents died.
I check if there are soaps in all the bathrooms
stock the fridge with vegetables
pull out stocks of pillows for the extra people visiting
buy milk, get coffee decoction ready for the morning cuppa.
I drive back home from work
to a house filled with people
cushions all about , battery popping out of the remote
the carpet crumpled, tea mugs lying around
and happy faces well rested through the afternoon.
And there are these friends of my son
I have invited over for tea
I need to know who my son goes out with
chats on yahoo, messages efficiently even when talking to me.
Tall boys and girls with big appetite crowd my table
sandwiches and pakodas I took hours to prepare
disappear in seconds, hands wiped clean on cushions.
The care giver has not come
I take off from work
help my husband’s father with his bath
take him on little walks
tuck him in bed, the sheet folded the way he wants.
Are all these me?
Or is it the one
that wants to drop a rope ladder from the balcony
climb out to walk away into the pearly night?
Will the real me please stand up ?