THE DIRTY PICTURE

She sits right next to
a busy city road
oblivious to its
vulgar noise and gaze
-the invisible destitute

the dead lump of tatters
that she cradles so delicately
could have been a baby once

the small pieces of
soiled glitter on her skirt
still ocassionally reflect
a love lost long ago

she digs the sod
probably trying to
reconstruct a timeline
her grimy nails
shedding murky milestones

The boys from the car
ogle at the oblivion
of her bosom
pushing aside
the hypocrisy
of the blouse called civilisation

the lights turn green
they speed up
getting late for
the dirty picture !