Obsession

Would not place any price-tag on me. Like a mannequin dug out from a pit goes for sale. Abhor the duplicity. Want to walk straight – without the golden thong. The city goes in flames in a circle. A new fountain was singing. They were landing in flocks. The old birds of same plumage coming to collect the due of old virgins. There was no message. Letterbox was empty. I will not wait for snowfall in the Antarcita. Satish Verma