Zen Punch 


A mango lassi from a roadside stall shot me down. For the next week before I try sleep 


Zen Punch. It sounds like a nice cocktail,
although I imagine it may arrive in a chalice,
garnished with sea sand, smoke from liquid nitrogen,
and when the smoke dies and you sip,   you find 
the glass is empty.

Perhaps emptiness is what I need in a space
thronged with sweaty air, and where I need 
to walk a desert strip to find a friendly stranger.

No, the barman pours two fingers of Talisker, adds this,
adds that and serves me. I ask him about the name.
He shrugs, “We use the ice from the old morgue.




Kushal Poddar
Picture Nick Victor


Kushal Poddar lives in Kolkata, India
Author Facebook- https://www.facebook.com/KushalTheWriter/ 
Twitter- https://twitter.com/Kushalpoe






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