Another Dream Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

I am put up in a guesthouse room,
Located above on three steps of stone;
I enter, find only toilet, no bathroom,
And in the centre, a big hole near which
Three old heavy white-metal locks lie;
I meddle with them, and soon one falls
From my hand, down sixty feet to cellar
Where men live: I am watching
With fear it might fall on some head:
But it doesn’t, I am still worried, all look up,
To only assure that they’d fetch up the lock.

Later, I ask where is the dining room?
Told there is none but that a Mall
Is in front. I can see some neon red lights
On the building across the road: I’ll eat there.

Wonder how they manage to get such rooms
Reserved in the metropolis: realize that it is Delhi,
They being Government in national capital,
They manage this, in fact anything they have a mind to.

In the dream, I decide to write a poem – Coleridge-like!