We drive back
the way we went,
crossed the treeline, pedestals,
steeples and the graveyard.
Near the last of the dense foliage
I need a toilet break.
You drum the steering wheel soft.
We shall drive back soon I finish.
I hold on to my last drops.
The urine mist, dew drops on
the blades of green, plays Lacrimosa,
Mozart, chorus. I linger on the moment.
We shall drive back then.
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Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor
Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
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