Doctors prescriptions are read only
By apothecaries in street’s corners.
They master the doctor’s scribbles
With large size imagination about
Where letters slip away or lead to.
Law makes them capital intensive
The letters all in capitals large size.
What a blow on a chemist’s pride,
Now as twisted as large intestines.
The women took turns with the shoulders
As they went in and went out , in the hole.
The afternoon resounded with their thuds
As we closed our eyes in a pretended nap.
Where we sat there was hardly difference.
The husk turned out to be a life’s content.
These days our mom is not there
To remember our lunar birthday.
The calendar page flips on a wall
Sharp at twelve of midnight clock.
We lose count of how many flips.
We resume and park portable Parker
In pocket, dark and about our living.
We park our dark stuff in her poetry.
In pockets ,Parker is highly portable
Dark and contemplative, sniggerer
By side ,with fun reasons for living.
School had no walls ,only borders
Marked out by beginnings of walls.
Between the plinth and a tin roof
Was the nagging infinity of a sky.
Bus shelter stood with holes of eyes
Open to a sky that held possibilities
Of rows of stars on moonless nights.
The shelter did not care for bus dust
Coming from the horizon on a wind.
Right , the bus conductor would say
Glamorously, his leather square bag
Hanging loosely with ticket moneys.
April seemed to play practical jokes
That would sprinkle rain on gutters
When we expected police brutality
With reproductive jokes about lilacs.
The unseasonal rain was sky-crack,
The wisecrack that pulled teeth out
And a power proof of a transformer
Like a fart joke by our oldest uncle.
The randy sky played a bawdy joke
With a slightly cracked up crop field
Playing dirty by a memory’s desires
Stirring its weeds with a spring rain.