chutney in bangalore

I often promise my feet

when trudging crowded streets,

dat ‘ll soon take ‘em places

far prettier than these.

But it’s nothing against seein u

rush for the bus,

ploddin ur way

thru the crowd thus,

dodging cars, crossin roads

jostlin thru the millin hordes.

U, who ought to be

in slippers, walkin a stream,

or in leech-proofs, a forest trail,

listenin for birds, smiling at snakes,

carelessly twirlin on the dewey grass,

as the open meadow u pass.

n though I’d miss u once u’re gone,

heart-rendingly incongruous:

it’s not where u belong.