Pointing

At the cross-roads

He was looking for a pointer

 Suddenly someone stepped in

And pointed directly at him

He turned left

To see whether he was pointing

Somewhere else

Or behind him

But was too dazed

To check whether that finger

Was now pointing else-where.

The street seemed familiar

But he couldn’t identiy it

Had he lived there,

Or was it another place?

Then again came the cross-roads

He  felt a shudder

When he thought of the pointing finger

And the man who had disappeared

Behind it.

This time he turned right

Maybe things would now be alright

The streets were still vaguely familiar

He must have passed this way

But there was nothing that could

Make it anymore definite

He looked for the traffic-light

From where things could change

But it did not appear

And then through the windscreen

He watched three men

Walking wearily away

More people

Sounds.

Someone suddenly stepped up

He waited for the hand to rise

Braced himself for the shock

And decided what to do

When the finger was  pointing again

But he stepped away

And the car passed him

And he saw that

 The man had no hands

“Must have lost them pointing”

He muttered.

As he parked

Below the street light

To come out and look around

He still felt the hand pointing

Somewhere

Between his brows.

Benoy.P.J