A couple of late walkers
striding with determination to nowhere
The ubiquitous phone in one hand
blaring a monotone
the path to spiritual salvation
A stick in the other,
that gives an air of purpose
Is useful for hitting out
at the strays that inhabit
the same roads they walk on
I turn into the main street, and merge with the traffic
The road is two lanes
but cars decree four,
the cars, the scooters, the bikes, the buses
The footpath is decorated
Stacks of pottery for sale,
a barber, a sprinkling of urine
The car and the bus honk in unison
at those who inhabit
the world outside their windows
the school-kids trying to cross the road
the men and women rushing to work
I arrive at the intersection
The garbage dump is strategically placed
As if an exhibit
of the innards of our life
Sifting and sorting
reclaiming to life, the condemned to rot
the ragpicker is elbow-deep
He shoves at the cow
that inhabits the same space
relishing the plastic bag
with a flavour of butter chicken
The light turns green
I rush not to be left behind
A delivery tempo catches up
Hundreds of hens slouching in the coop
the eyes dart about
the bodies, chicken to us
are packed cost-effectively
the skin showing through the bald feathers
dirty, dried, matted
Perhaps they inhale in turns
to conserve space
A crow lands on the coop, curious
of those who inhabit unfreedom
He pecks at them, through the net
not to eat
juicy, live meat is not his taste anyway
I turn into the campus
the lab gates close behind me
I am home
with those that inhabit
the ivory towers of knowledge
March 2026
Photo:Anipixels.com ID: 005381
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