Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

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

Infidelity


I live in a colony.
It's a hive of bees, full of honey
But the nectar, where does she sleep?
While descending my stairwell,
On every Saturday,
I see the three bhabhi's chatting away.
Bhabhi is a misnomer, because they married by brothers
They are younger to me and I like their thunder.
I like one of them, she is saucy and quite a dame,
Always conscious of her flesh, and never minds being fresh,
I often think what she does under then sink?
When at nights I sleep, how does her bed feel?
But I am thankful she is not mine, all she does is chatter brine,
My wife works day and night, innocently thinking Mumbai is her prime,
A honest effort, a word of prayer, will make the bitch give her sublime.

Submitted: Saturday, February 09, 2013
Edited: Saturday, February 09, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

To flesh is human, to pine divine, but when it comes to heaven, your wife's the only life line.

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