For My Drunkard Son, The Wine Shop His Office, His Place Of Visit Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

For my drunkard son
Who does not hear me at all,
Take to my word,
The wine shop his temple
A place of worship,
His office
Of the ponzi-scheme chit-fund company
And he like an office-goer going daily,
Coming from
To meet the ale shop staff,
The pub staff as his own staff,
To ask about
And exchane pleasantries
And to talk to him
Is to hear him
And speaking about gambling, drinking,
Rash driving, smoking,
Bottles and feasts and outings.