The rude glare of sun.
The day has fever.
The odour of hospital foyer.
Fire take wing from a
funeral pyre.
The 'vettiyan' is drunk.
He pulls out a bone of hope
from the earth and throws
it away. His hand
disappears into the well of
his trouser pocket and
comes out with a
half -smoked beedi. He stands
there in a drunken daze.
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