The Frenchman’s water bottle

Now on the other green bench , where a neighbor was . There is slush before every man’s bench. I am the neighbor today and I make no nostril noises.

Yesterday’s night spilled over to this morning of poetry where a Philip Larkin had brought a London shame from hiding. Here in India we have an act of Parliament for  the fearless.

The woman from the London poor lay in ruins like a child to be killed or sent to an aunt. Here a bus harbored desires that took boys up the dusty attic of fulfillment ,leaving everyone confused as to who is more deceived.

In the dusk hours of yesterday we heard of a French man who was angry with a water bottle. When asked to report to a brown skinned boss, the French worker in the factory’ s workshop got so angry  with it that he crushed the water bottle out of shape.

To think  it made such a big splash on the silence of the board room.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s