by Partha Sarkar
The ration of sex is free for all
Come in the queue, hungry homo sapiens
You have gone far with lofty complexity
Leaving behind the statue of liberty
And none has met the golden manuscript
When the white fluid is available
And none has the glasses to see the sacred animals
Who are not naked
But I am
And no doubt we all are……
A sad cat in the rain.
An ambulance without blood.
A chopped uterus.
The languid moon.
A preacher in an oversexed civilization –
The convolution we want to go along with
In a straight line to the horizon.
But how can we?
Its birth is a failure.
Now there will be no rendezvous.
Run away if you can,
I do not know.