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Poem	You hide your face in shame, But I can see your private parts, Have you no contrition, To expose yourself, shamelessly, thus? Tell me what does it feel, To be watched while you strain? Is that why you hang your head in shame; Has all embarrassment left you? I know it’s hard; you need your money, But couldn’t you put the money — You spend on spirits and tobacco, To use that public facility on the street corner? Is it communion with nature you seek? Or the pleasure of shocking, Young children, and pubescent girls? Your revenge, your wretchedness! If it’s your laziness, unforgivable indolence, And reluctance to pay Rupee two, And wash with dignity in that public facility, Then bury your face, wretch, and die in shame.
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