A bloody fiver, this life of mine.
Spent three on roasted grams, salted peanuts.
Paani-puri tastes better, sure.
Too late for it, boy.
Peanuts and grams is what I enjoy.
The tenner I saved for old age,
stinging on protein and fats,
is valid no more.
The currency changed midnight,
and lately, my daughter says,
I’ve taken on my mother’s foldy face.
A dollar a kiss, that comes
to a million in bits.
Plus, those untiring licks,
blind and choking…hic,
worth a billion, all yours for keeps.
Hope that’s enough
to make you part,
as I say goodbye,
with two small coins,
in the hollow of my fists.