Tattooed

The morning smells of lemons;
there are dreams and paranoid whiskers
embossed by numbers, known
or unaccounted.

The newsroom gurgles bubble words,
the politicians, industrialists, and matinee idols
create those bubbles,
tattooed  by campaigns and advertisements.

Those of us who are inconsequential,
a politically correct synonym for forgotten mistakes,
count our dreams,
and gradually the numbers efface.

Copyright ©2010, Debashish Haar, All Rights Reserved ®