Theme: Reflections

I Dream of Calcutta

At the humble part of Calcutta, far from posh
places where men wear three piece suits and
ravishing women, expensive fur and the air-
condition is turned so low it can be in New
York a January day, they gave me booze made
in distilleries hidden in the tall grass. Epiphany,
at the hospital for the poor and dying I met my
mother and told into those dark fathomless eyes
the mess I have made out of my own life; held
her tiny hand in mine, the fluttering of a bird's
heart, till stillness came, I saw, through a glass
empty window, cold stars. Tried to enter the rich
enclave, but low paid lackeys, in starched opera
uniforms, blocked my quest for equality.


More By  :  Jan Oscar Hansen

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