Saturday, November 27, 2010

Etched question

Arm chaired intellect puffing Marlboro
high on vodka
talked of Marx.

The maggot broth of memory
heaved air conditioned sighs
and elicited data.

Impressive minds neatly compartmentalise
sex ratios, poverty indices
Kierkegaard and Brecht.

Really appealing kohl-lined eyes
dreamily debate
for an egalitarian world.

In the Italian coffee house,
the luscious lips furiously fume
at the jaundiced judiciary.

At the opera house
she deftly demands
rights for minorities.

That candy sweet voice
confesses confidence
of unfettered zeal.

I wonder if this commitment
would have ensued
without a French toast breakfast
in a murky suburb
that reeks of filth.