100 miles to the nearest city
I hate the clear skies and the air
the smell of cow piss in the morning
the camaraderie of men
the plain women, the ugly kids
the smell of rain falling on fresh soil
the fiery blossom of the palash
I am an urban man
used to the dingy dark corners
behind tanneries and meat vendors
the pungent cancerous air
and water blacker than my soul
the crime, the brutality
the love-hate relationship between a man and his city
never could be explained in poetry
the rhymes, the free verse
can’t capture the cantankerous bitch that is my reverence
for this city
and its million cretins.
