The World

The world is entitled to its dislikes and its likes alike with blue and green insects, ticks and red hearts on the highway of zero and one counting blessings and eggs before they hatch into adult fireflies of a night of thinking darkness of thick molasses sweet in which swim sand-clocks struggling to move on, struggling to move forward viscous words of lolling around in bed on cots and mattresses of unnecessary distraught quickly changing adjectives to nouns laughing out loud in cobwebs and caresses of carelessness on long road-trips in luxury cars borrowed from friends and their families wishing them well when living on queen-sized beds all the time jumping on the polythene wrapping thick enough not to give away tears, droplets shopping malls and showrooms of showing off in yellow and red it’s not for the communist to watch a motion picture there with their friends and foes of capitalist ideologies liberating thought deed and words in dictionaries of old English towns and tales of seventy-three cities citations in dark green and gold fingertips that haven’t browned in years now without nicotine chewing on memories of an otherwise Chewbacca now a sparkler in a sprinkler bubbling hot in an aluminium pot on a stove with sprigs of herbal leaves rolled in sheets of bread and shea butter on face smoothening skin blending smoothies in easy to guess tools for blending – blenders – woo hoo and that is something that one should celebrate all the time till the clock strikes seventeen in sing-song voices tunes and sing-along words and precision