And now I
know the best lullabies are the flat horns
Of those Budi nazar wale tera muh kaala trucks,
On the way
from Bhagalpur to Dimapur,
Smelling
of Ghoda Chaap rum and effervescent Howrah beedis,
Enveloped
in the musky fake Charlie perfumed hangover
Of the
Nepali whore at the Bharat Petroleum pump.
Nepali
whores, a Bengali whore told me once in Kalighat,
Are the promiscuous
of them all
Only to
burst out giggling at the
Ridiculousness
of the ranking of randiness.
Sab behen
behen, she said.
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