The years I spent
Gulping down morsels of kotthu roti
As a town, slowly, beefed the spring chicken
Straddled with those protein-filaments
That shift out with glow and bulge.
Bronze, being the untimely truth.
And now 20 years after
Back again in the same town, I slowly munch
The little pre-cooked foods my wife
Pans out on the stove
As I slowly assemble and pack the fat molecules
On the viscera of my tummy
Knowing that an angina might
Not be far away.
And this town, that has a history of aggrandizing me,
Still lifts me up when I’m trying to catch my marbles
From abandoning me. She plays
Me Freddie Mercury, to make me nibble
At that lengthy noodle terminal I call life.
And it fattens you up, listening to
Bohemian Rhapsody – what my wife calls
A meaningless hodge-podge of lyrics with an impeccable tang
To cross you over through those straits of tristesse.
Colombo, she will always upsize me
Even when I have no hope, or when I’m seriously ill
With a heart ailment. She will always be the soup bowl
That holds my beautifully-warped noodle
That I hope to god, will keep on stretching
To defy the broken life line, sketched on my palm.
And Freddie Mercury, calls me from his grave
Telling me that the afterlife is nothing much to rave.
Its sitting still in a place, going gaga or gugu.
And I’m just like everybody else,
A bohemian caught to the rhapsody of time.
At least I can say I lived in Colombo most of my life.
Where everything leaves behind a legacy
Even a Freddie Mercury Song.