In The Queue Poem by AMITAVA MAZUMDAR

A long train of people always
at the cabstands, doddering
with all stink and dirt

there it was between the narrow
passageways of slums, nearby
shroud with third world mirth

the well-offs from the apartments
behind their sunglasses cooled of;
stands at the ATMS to encash their lives

on the other stands, knocked up one another
shake their legs past midnight
whenever they alchemise all their bribes

even stars in the bluer surface
jostled up, hurdled up with a
gap decently drawn between them

a face sometimes glimpses from the horizon
behind it many awaits;
every one has its own detiny,
a future to be in the queue
even if one has to stake all its shame.