Point-five

I hate this all-crowds-no-people city. Not that I am not offered helping hands while I hang onto the slippery life thread. I don’t take any. Sometimes we willingly walk into a survival trap to escape a maybe death. I did that once when I entered Mumbai. Enough. Bring on the probabilities now.

This stinks of a sigh

Hairdresser puts down the brush, and rumples my hair with both hands. I feel nice, like a pampered dog. Then I look myself into the mirror. I see a pile of shredded paper. On top of my head. A pile of shredded paper that may have got an electric shock. Hairdresser informs that this is a new shabby look, quite in in colleges these days. I tell her keep rumpling. I am so very pleased.

Rantingly yours

Make your presence felt
Come onto me
You shameless placid pricks
Make me angry and sated
Wanted and used
Abhorred and awaited
Irritated and amused
Without losing a breath
Then go one step ahead
Impose your friend on me
Who is frivolous and fickle
He will play with my hair
And try lifting my shirt
In full public glare
And when you are done
You leave me wanting
Like some strangers do
And a few friends too
----
But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, by swaggering could I never thrive, for the rain it raineth every day - Shakespeare