Wednesday, 30 September 2009


Staring out the window
On a wet noon
Sipping a lucky latte
Fogging his pupils
"What do they do?"
He wonders
To fill their collars
With professions
So intellectual
"Were I not born
Of sperm and egg just like
This entire floor?"
He wonders
Whats he to do
Can he change
The protocol?
Or should he
The endless lattes
As freebies
From the Goddess
Who creates classes
For experiment
And amuse

1 comment:

pixeleen said...

I like your take on questioning purpose in the microcosm :-) subtle, smooth and not drowning in angst or regret that's usually a mainstay of such pondering. very refreshing...quite like the latte.