I take an auto rickshaw into the city
i get down near the railway station
and get into a shady hotel
which is frequented by whores
and kids whose parents
won’t let them have sex
horny stilettoes who get themselves
into sticky situations
because the world compels them to
in any case, I rent a room
and lie in bed, the bedsheet lined
with blood, from disreputable sources
probably
the ceiling is slightly dark
as if something was burnt here
right under this very bed
it’s a mystery I haven’t figured out
as yet
but I still come to this hotel
every fortnight
hoping that this mystery never gets solved
and I can frequent this place
long enough for somebody to recognize me
and ruin me forever.
A heathen poet 