On the right side of the Banaswadi flyover
Runs a road
One side lined with yellow lumps on metal grey
The other, full of throat clearings.
In the soft mist of winter
The shallow putrid gutter flows,
Foul and fetid,
Men with rakes
Make little heaps of plastic and black mush.
Little kids run barefoot
Snorty and naked
playing and nagging
(across the road and along it)
Others sit empting their bowls like others before them
The ladies in green overalls
Bend double
dust pan and broom
collecting heaps, stuffing them into bins
tinkling along
on their push carts.
I race by
Looking for the blue bus ahead
Watching my every step
Not daring to swallow.
6th January 2008
Petty
7 years ago
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