those ginger shaded lights,
and saris hauled as shades.
smell of puke and cheap perfume,
yet those lips spur them beam.
all the way the kids giggle
all the chimes from her bangle
those eyes spark no spirit,
yet those lips fork with pretend lust.
the slimy backyard bubbled with come,
their sweat and her talcum.
no doors, four walls teal and pink,
yet them masked with a drape that stink.
stood there a man of skin thick,
gained from the pain of these flock.
flesh rubbed, humped and bruised,
yet they smiled to make them glad.
as they arise to the sounds of noon ‘salah’,
they hear the buzz of their borough.
never like before, glaring into the harsh sun,
yet she rose from that bed, wearing a helpless grin.