Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)


I need Gas, fill me up.
The man at the gas station looked at me perplexed.
I said don't be confused, the lid is open pump it in,
Make sure its deejal, every one has a need, I am not the only one who's been.
He took the hose, pushed it into my steel hole,
The elixir flowed, meter gauge swelled,
Felt like the teen age long left me desolate,
When my anatomy for no rhyme or reason popped turgid amazed.
Then fuel made me feel uncomfortable, almost guilty, like the indicator,
Telling me hey you blew it blimey.
Today when the turgid being swells,
I feel what an idiot I had been,
Trapped in plastic,
Wanting to be a conformist,
Despite my youth long lost urging me to be an experimentalist.

Submitted: Sunday, February 17, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I was at the petrol station, wanting to top up my cars diesel fuel tank. Diesel is pronounced in india as Deejal, and this poem cam to me.

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