The Dinner Guest

men in college sometimes wonder

if going to college was a blunder

most of them are agitated

‘cause the markets saturated.

So it isn’t strange to me,

To be the loser that I be.

.

see, I slunk along behind the rest

went for expensive ferengi test,

sprawled on floor with outstretched paws

licked the feet of recruitment jaws

all this kept playing on my mind,.

In time it decimated spine.

.

so I was cast out from the herd

treated like a stinky turd

shadowed by the shouts of ‘gand’

and a pansy from multan.

.

my folks were therefore not impressed

their egos’ insufficiently caressed

by my failure,

by my flaws

by the lack of mental laws

to ensure that all my kind

would be wiped from humankind.

“kuch kaam ka nahin, paltu hai

aik hi chahiyay tha, faltoo hai”

.

at night the streetlights that never worked

shone bright and blurred.

the kamakazi moths and i

did harakari fly by's

and i wished them to be as dead

as springs in an ugly spinster bed.

it took the sun rising

(your original tourist shirt pattern)

and the dead wings becoming dull prisms

for the boil to burst

and the pus to drain.

.

it ran yellow down clothes.

.

footpath families plied their wares

woman waddled pigeonlike to

my chariots of strangeness

said "god bless you".

later, hand empty but mouth stuffed

with bitter ulcer, sicko swill, it was

"may maggots rot in your womb."

.

my response?.

.

two legs were better than one

though four legs were better than two,

had my soles glued to paper

while my mind flew over you.

.

the offensively plump woman retired

(my balls impressed, though just acquired)

but like all other borrowed skins

they soon withered, drew within.

.

in no time i was back inside

the home in which we meet...collide.

where father mother sister sat,

preparing for the juicy spat

where they'd be right

and i'd be wrong

(just like they'd known

all along).

.

arguments were bombshells

sprinkled through dinner

turning rebel into

co-opted sinner.

.

"I raised you!" screamed

saint.T. of the dishes

as she raved of the turgid

moments she misses.

.

today it had been 'hot' in town

all the moles gone underground

in fact it had been hard to find

a daishatgard with some free time

to come have dinner at my home

(see...i can’t face the folks alone).

.

the idea was to let them meet

someone familiar with the street

to help them see the lines imposed

on sex, on drugs, on gender roles,

were silly pointless abdications,

shamless desertion of thought stations.

the world had changed, and so had we

and there was little time to be

good and honest, pure and clean

cone heads pinioned by brylcream.

while bondage was a bit of fun

(especially if the relatives cum)

chains were ugly in repose

and reeked like perma-underclothes

.

the talk got extremely heated,

with bunsens under each bottom seated

round our table new and clean,

positioned by the tv screen.

as daishoo spun another yarn

my father said "oh naujawan

ja kay la aur garam naan."

.

and in the time i went for that

a neighbour's son came by to chat

just hankering for a 'mard to mard'

and he saw the daishatgard.

the silly man then trotted off

found a land line, called a cop,

reported famous daishatgard

with two mems, and another mard.

.

the police did what they do best,

(consult the manual, invent the rest)

cordoned off my mummy's home

blocked all outgoing phones

called and said "bahir aaieen..

warna hum sub ko uraain

gay

abay

sala

bahir aaja."

.

they hung up, went into action

without waiting for reaction

bomb squad workers detonated

their charges as the public waited

to see collapse

my house, my home,

my block of flats.

.

i tried to scream

no sound erupted

from throat by blast

of fear corrupted

the shrieking of my frigid mind

stuck in stark and limbic time.

.

the beggar women took me in

adopted me as next of kin,

and now i'm on the daily roster

in tandem with a girl imposter.

.

at night we lie all rolled in one,

tired from citing the holy one.

i take the covers off the night

think what i'd say if i could write.

.

"this city spread its legs," i'd say

"but lovin' won't be in today."