It's that time of the day when men perspire
adjectives and talk about their pay-packets,
and women discuss the incentives spraying
adverbs, stroking their cell-phones like babies.
The dogs in the streets are busy licking
used up tissues and napkins, swallowing
the scent of whatever they can’t chew.
Friends exchange sweets and mementoes,
lovers worship lack of separation.
The day ponders its immensity
as if stretching to take the flight of birds.
The insomniacs are stoned to sleep,
children forced to read junked literature.

copyright© 2006, Debashish Haar