Lonely As a Cloud

I wandered lonely as a cloud through the myriad perfume-soaked bodies,

of guests, invited and uninvited, clad in threadbare suits and flamboyant gowns.

Through raucous laughter and feigned excitement  I wiggled, guarding my Nikon with my life.

And through the oppressive cacophony and the tyrannical pungence, I captured the fake smiles,

the intentional poses for “Unaware pictures”, and the scary masks the women wore as makeup.

The couple, as is wont of every, took their  time.

By morning, they were on their way

By noon, they were on their way.

By evening, they were on their way.

By nightfall, mattresses  had been brought in.

Marquees were turning to tents and refreshments were turning to survival rations.

The minister, intents of escape on his face, kept pacing about, loosening his collar and saying a prayer.

The women, frightened at this point, whimpered.

The kids ran around, their joy abundant at the prospect of camping.

The smiles were all wiped away and replaced with worry. 

They  would leave if they could. They couldn’t.

For  roundabout the wedding grounds was only water and hopelessness.

An artificial isle with no way out. No lifeboat.

The wedding couple were still on their way with the ferry.

And I wandered lonely as a cloud,

capturing all the flustered faces, the muffled teary prayers and the drunk men,

inundated and saturated with liquor,

crawling to sleep in their ramshackle make-believe palace. 

I wandered lonely as a cloud musing at the colossal catastrophe,

The one which would surely unfold tomorrow.