It is Saturday and as I dress leisurely I am singing under my breath. This is the day I look forward to all week. The day I venture out into the wild, wild world of the bazaar to put one over on the natives.
I wonder if the polka dot shirt
is too formal
Stepping forth with rare fortitude and courage into the vegetable market I approach the vendor of potatoes and onions. I start haggling even before she has quoted. One has to be firm with these people. After argument and counter-argument she sighs in defeat and triumphantly paying her my price I plonk the purchase into my basket. But even as I step away flushed with victory I overhear the wretched woman quoting a much lower price to the next customer. I shudder to think how Mother will dice me along with the potatoes.
as a nurse mentions tubers
health check up
A moment later finds me examining the fresh fish displayed by a monger. When he quotes I act as though shocked to the core. I point out to the good man that this is highway robbery. He whimpers and whines that they are indeed large specimens of the species. Relenting, I shell out the money and head homeward.
the way the geography teacher
twirls the globe
Hauling the catch up the three flights of stairs to the old home I am greeted with a Basilisk’s glare. From the mater. Having listened with a patient smile to her criticism of the price paid for the onions, I dip into the seafood packet with a complacent smirk. What I do draw out of the container however ate two tiny specimens of the much touted pompfret. I gape at Mother with fishlike eyes. And I realize for the thousandth time what a cruel world this is.
……..a crab reaches out
for my fingers
I had often heard about séances in my childhood and something equally dreadful called planchette. And then a playmate of mine from the neighbourhood brightly informed me that his cousin was a medium. At planchette, he added darkly. My curiosity piqued, it was shortly thereafter that a small group of us gathered conspiratorially around a carom board on which the cousin had chalked in some mysterious symbols.
She tossed her pigtails as she placed a coin on the board which had been liberally dusted with talc. Then the medium called out to the ghosts of our ancestors. We all took turns calling out to them but not a squeak out of a spectre. Since the four of us had our index fingers on the coin it moved in every conceivable direction with every conceivable result. Finally, having shouted ourselves hoarse for an hour, we despaired and gave up.
in low spirits
…….I pour myself
a large vodka
woven carpets sprawled across market places, a facade of thin embroidery across their plastic between the teeth of metal machines and grandma asks me if they can make the sun as well, since they’re making a rainbow and I say maybe they will come up with raindrops, or even tweezers for you to twist the twilight…
still, what do you think about a metallic moon?
man made forest…
measuring the surface area
of a dewdrop
when we’re done having sex, he asks me to blow his cousin in the adjoining room…
greyhound racing life of a side piece
ice cube tray
two bottles of vodka
four bottles of beer
a few eggs
a bottle of mustard
filling up on emptiness someone’s leftovers
Dear Citizen in Violation (CIV),
You have received this OPR notice as a result of a complaint filed by the Minister of Perpetual Admiration (MPA). He has provided us with screen captures that indicate you are in clear violation of CODE #336-/1. Namely, you have posted online material in defiance of the recent decree regarding The Czar of Everything (CZAR).
Additionally, we have in our possession multiple YouTube videos in which you impersonate The Czar of Everything. All those who impersonate The Czar of Everything, who continually repeat his name mockingly, are subject to severe reprimand, so The Czar of Everything has decreed.
You will be visited by two Officers of Redaction (OR). They will assist or complete your Departure.
The loyal staff of The Czar of Everything thanks you for your past patriotism.
The Minister of Professional Responsibility (MPR)
native birds outnumbered
some people leave you in odd ways. they just disappear from your life. like that.
the absence of malice
of an owl
The best time I had was when I forgot myself. I don’t know why I ever came back.
the subway car window
shows only darkness . . .
and my reflection
I can’t figure out if mysticism is ecstatic or a sham. I go between Sufi dancing and wanting fame. Not everyone can sleep in the sand.
our first name
I have never been on hard drugs, but it seems like I am. The cacophony of conversations in the cafe melds into my thought process and my mental silence. I thought I was high on meditation this morning, but I guess coffee can cut through inner calm, despite our idealism.
rain or snow?
I remove myself