Monsoon raga

There at the bottom of the India-map
A sneeze had begun and a handkerchief
Came up to our noses through the hills
As rain began pouring on slippery mud
Of  tire treads, sins spread and stinking
Refuse home for the season’s new flies. 

The clouds multiplied like flies in clinics
Of doctors heavy with tails in their necks.
Their tails went like animal tales of shit.
Your heads swelled with loss of dignity
And your nose quickly forgot the flowers.
You looked funny under a monkey cap. 

The rivers flowed fervently in side-gutters
Bringing our shit back to the very noses
That had just sent it away to other noses.
You missed your slum pigs that explored
All  piles of filth, bringing their insides out.
We shall now bring out our sitar to play
A fine rain raga if the fucking flies let us.

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