Rupunzel made a trip to the salon

where an accident with the curling iron

made her screech.

Ignoring her penitent stylist’s

proposal for a truce

In a huff, snap, clip she departed.

Grieving,

she lunged

towards a tryst with fate.

Slipped into trendy

High heeled boots over

gaudy textured net stockings.

With Angelina Jolie- esque red lips

behold

A vixen unfastened.

Newspapers reported her missing.

With photographs of her aristocratic bygone look

Forensic scientists mapped the world.

Centuries later

vampire fangs

wound with

long strings of golden hair

   surface

        deep within

             the  

                Eifel

                      tower

Suck-Suck-Suck!

Don’t Stop

Once you start

Just don’t stop

Don’t be abrupt

It is building up

Just about

Remember the principles

Fluid dynamics

Pressure

That’s the only size we have

NO, I did not bring the scissors

Careful!

Just DON’T get the petrol in your mouth

Don’t worry about the spill

last night

we watched the stars together ….something we had done as kids

stealing out of bed

tiptoeing up the stairs to the roof

the cold night air

replacing the smell of terror

allowing the blanket

to enfold us

we would sometimes fall asleep

together

he would find us

in the morning

joined together as Siamese twins

with dried up saline trails

he would hit us both

we never cried….at least not till the next night

when we tiptoed up the stairs again

and watched the stars.

etch a million billion lines on the globe

flex vernier calipers and measuring tapes

meander through every street

notice trim partition space and memories

sprout new territories: anderson, smith, sheikh, roy,  abdullah, titiensky, witt, wolfe…..

beware of periodic pathologic rioting

front page newspapers screaming

sagacious rhetorical exchanges

indissoluble liaison between power weapons and space monopolies

a minute’s silence in our playground

infants remain in the free zones

i am here

unplanned egg and

impotent sperm

inelastic collision

a fluke 

not one in a million

just one potent one

a beating time-bomb

so close, i can’t even hear

my time will come

mute

snakes and ladders

chess

monopoly and scruples

i perform

white sand

ingredient bones ground up

spread out thin

effluvia

i will sit on the wastes

regurgitate nostalgia

and spin out the sperms

Cinderella in the

flesh emporium

stands by the bar

in the red light

an enamored throng

of paltry men

survey her lissome frame

her hypnotic essence prevails

she does however

leave at the clang of midnight

nobody notices the shoe she leaves behind.

draping herself in her flowing white robe

she steps out of the steam shower

pallid look naturally administered

she glides into their chamber

sips her herbal tea (ginseng)

and fingers the sitar languidly

a faint tune hums in her head.

from the smoky living room

arrives the relentless wheelchair

bearing the weight

of her husband.

twizzlers cheerios snickers

quilted super absorbent

tide mountain spring combo pack

pepcid AC crest scope bodyshapers

beauty fluids

turtle wax chunky cheese

wild ruby salmon wraps cherry orange

budweiser sea tuna

and a bunch of celery

fall out of my hand

and litter the pavement

as I frantically

wave at my latest crush 

birds are building their nests in the garden

a black crow on the clothes line repeatedly wipes its beaks on a white shirt

takes three steps sideways

shuffles towards the old lady

asleep in her rocking chair on her patio in the warm afternoon sun

her puckered and creased mouth open

dribbling saliva

with each nod of her head the wire frame glasses slide lower

from the bridge of her flaccid nose

her silver hair gleams in the sun

the crow gingerly moves closer and closer

looks around with black rimmed eyes (without eyebrows)

and fluffs up as if to take off

instead perches on her head

the grandson comes charging at the crow

wildly swinging his cricket bat

renders a sharp blow

to his grandmothers head

bronze sheen

thick coppery lips

quaint

thin mindless rattle

cane with a serpent

tattooed spirit of the

electric age robots

sex machines

momentary rush

pour the vitamins into the gut

fine peels of deer entrails

arcane philosophy sandwiched in blanched rage

the bartender pours another drink

A young jaguar

sniffs

 the tomatoes

fresh and ripe

listens

to the melody of  peas and carrots

peeks

at the beets

tastes

the salty soil’s sour sorrel

blinks

at the rainbow carpet

and resumes

his hunt

A surprise treat for him

designed to the last detail

with great aplomb

lust dissolves jet lag

warm morning sifts in through bamboo blinds

casting checkered patterns

gently, she opens the wooden shutters

overlooking the bay

oblique shadows fall on the far wall as she leans out with a smile

she turns around tantalizes him a little and glances at the

delicately arranged cactus flowers

twisted at an angle like dancing women

hand in hand they walk downstairs

crimson napkins fan out a welcome

cut glass clasp palm juice

a breakfast of eggs benedict, buttered toast

salmon stuffed croissants grape parfait supreme

nectarine tart and brandy spiced peaches

together they walk through the foam

lounge on the beach

watch the shadows change

a bare bronze skinned man

flashes his sparkling teeth

offers consommé scalloped oysters on palm leaves

straw hats and swishing sarong

vibrant splashes and drums

belly buttons hide diamonds

sunset by the sea

fresh squeezed passion fruit

a nap and play under the umbrella

brochettes of swordfish

finale with rum chocolate mouse

her venomous revelation

as she wanders off with

the bronze skinned man who flashes

his brilliant teeth

The nuclear war

wiped the birds and bees

the algae, herbs fish arthropods and cute marsupials

the chemo-radiation

did not spare

the duck billed platypuses and ancestor lemurs

but wait, someone lived on

cockroaches

with polymerization assemblages of cell differentiation

their evolution

happening in pico-seconds

cockroaches

on corpulent hind legs

shed wings developed forelimbs

their membranous corpus antennae mater

developed intuition and protective transformation

hey, did someone rummage through your garbage last night?

recycled the nightmare

it must have been the guy next door

from Pluto

I put my chin on the window sill and watched the rain all morning

forming little poodles on the pane

a dead frog overturned

with its stiff pale belly

like a beanie baby without a tag

a live fog on springs

hopped away

birds chirped and crows shook

drying their feathers

i exhaled each long breath

on the window pane

Sen, Ghosh and Mukherjee

wane and arthritic

sit drinking their afternoon tea on their verandah

their adroit mouths brisk in gossip

of sons daughters-in-law outlaws mosquitoes dogs and lesser beasts

petrol kerosene coffee prices crumbling economies falling governments

global warming recent nuclear testing and affairs of presidents unsparingly deprecated

their myopic visions reach the woman across the street opening her window

her heaving breasts distracts them fleetingly

her life subject of much speculation

nightly glamour and day-time jeers and slander

their cups empty

down below the street vendor’s shrill cries are heard selling umbrellas

Lata, balancing on her hip her bastard baby brings in more tea

Sen rests his furrowed hands

longer than needed on her wrists

she brusquely moves on

Mukherjee grudgingly extends his empty cup

and smiles his toothless smile.

Ghosh feels the scrawny dog lick his fungusy toe nails

…kicks it off (yelps!)

rivets his attention

the woman across the street

now closing her window.

Last night I dreamt of our old house

…..my grandson brought me flowers…daffodils…my favorite

he sat on my knees and I rocked him gently

we talked about school and bugs and new shoes….

it was a bright summer morning

the evening storm was strong

the electricity went out

i sat knitting my bliss

i can now see the fine dust settled everywhere

even in the fine folds of my skin

my joints stiffen and creak at every move

as i sink into the cold metallic wheelchair 

throw open the window and look out

a dead frog spread eagled with ants all around

and a stiff mud caked  bird with her legs up in the air

Gopa would massage me with warm oil every night

thawing my frozen body

she oiled and braided  my hair and cried and laughed about

her little children…four girls a son

and husband who drank too much and beat her every night

but now she is gone.. dead in childbirth…

and I remain suffering from childbirth

i will write out my will tomorrow

leave out my son and daughter in law

and bequeath daffodils to the grandson I have never seen