Soulless

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08/06/2016 by Siddiqui Fayesal

Hurrying along the
Road across
From me is a lout,
With a knowing
Nose.

I see him walk in lengthy
Strides
Without a care in
The world.

I see him eat an Apple.

Not munch, because I hate
That word.

I also hate the
Sound of scrumptious;
Of tete-a-tete;
Of many more words
that I’d never use.

Of, brunch, for instance!

And poor fellas
Don’t munch; they eat,
They devour.

So, he was eating an apple
And walking in lengthy
Strides.

Work boots
And a patchy shirt.
Patent leathers
And the latest cuff.

Cheap smokes swirls
And envelopes him; 
While the potent
Cigar only
Caresses me.

He walks to me
And asks me the 
Time.

I ignore him and
Pull another drag,
Before pulling out
My smart phone
And yelling the
Time in Hindi.

Not completely;
My hindi is patchy,
Much like his manners.

I never learnt what
A quarter is in
Indian.

He smiles and walks off.

He walks off
Leaving me in a 
The gloom of cheap
Bidis and unrefined
Tobacco.

I was about to abuse
Him with refined
Taste and shower
Him with a little bit
Of Mothers and Sisters
And Cheap Whores
When I noticed his
Left hand.

The scar was fresh
Compared to mine;
It was red and bloody.

I whipped out my phone
And checked the date.

I sat still for a minute and
Got up shakily to
Unsee what I saw;
To forget what I 
Had forgotten.

Again.

Siddiqui F
(02.06.2016)

NB: First 8 paragraphs on 02.06.2016. The remaining on 07.06.2016. Both were written at Home.

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