bored, nothing to do
walk the streets
the world would give you
a treat here lavishing you a tale
of the most imaginative kind
flowers, stilletos, skirts, flashy cars,
designer coffee fragrances,
women talking in musculine voices,
mad men speaking to oneselves,
fortune tellers trying to reveal
heaven's secrets to ambitious clients
this life and even the next and butterflies
of night that flutter among neonlights
settling on anything that smells dollars and cents
visuals and a heart thrown in
for you to taste their twist and turn
it could be as simple as
an evening stroll of a sultry indian woman
who for a moment thinks herself an aswarya rai,
in her long blue floral skirt
the first time she has worn
it carries her or rather she carries it so well
you forget yourself as she sails down
the channel of your heart with
extraordinary verve and grace
a loose fitting casual blouse, julia roberts' hair
clearing the slightest jaded piece of the mind
a wondrous creature
who feels so good
about herself - a fountain of spring -
you cannot help being drawn into her paradise
smiles amid lean physique that accentuate
the edges the male mind feeds on to survive
twists and turns
that loosen the knots
in the heart, clear the lens in the mind
and oil the nerves for a bout of inspired verses