Like throngs of feral horses
That gather on the island of Delft,

You see little children, gather around a kite,
Which hovers over the mango tree,

Until one Willard mango falls,
Or is plucked, and helped- on to a mouth,

Then they share pieces of mango,
After the kite descends to limestone earth,

And what can one really do with
The giant seed inside the pulp?

After it’s given a good buccal squeeze…
Perhaps a game of hopscotch.

Those squares, children jump in to,
Bigger than a checker board square.

Meanwhile the long road to the south,
Is cluttered with private buses.

“Elephant Pass,” sounds like a conservation corridor,
Which I suppose, herds of elephants use.

And have you ever seen
An elephant, walk a mile down south?

And suddenly look back at the North
As if he is missing something?

Funny how territorial they too can be,
Almost like a possessive insecure lover.

Meanwhile inside a decorated Kovil,
There is Lord Ganesh on top of a shrine,

Elephantine in presence and form,
While the sleuth-like leopards, they

Slowly multiply on the lands vacated
By those striped felines, pussies-in-boots,

It’s amazing how easy it is, to colonize
A vacant niche. The spotted ones,

With beautiful tawny skin,
Searching for their own Eelam.