She tried to be a doctor
but they said
the enamel paint on her talons
stained the scalpel.
She tried to be a lawyer
but they said
her skirts, way too high,
distracted the judge.
She tried to be a teacher
but they said
her voice was too weak,
not quite loud enough to control the children.
She tried to be a writer
but they said
she needed guts
and of course, that probing, phallic mind.
So, she tried to be a woman.
They pat her on the back
and showed her the kitchen, the garden
… and the bed.

Blessed underwire, my bosom is at rest.
Yea, I am confident with steel at my chest.
For my boobs are now pointing not Southwards but West
I, in my brassiere, am happy and blest.

Socked in steel beret,
booted in fresh khaki,
face blue like a lampless night.
He said, “I am looking for adventure.”
“I don’t believe I know her,” I quipped.
But it was hard to hide
from those prancing eyebrows-
Sahara hyenas.
“I meant adventure books.”
“I don’t work here.”
“Still, you look like the sort of person
who could help me.”
I place the Kama Sutra handbook on a shelf.
Hypnotised, and let him waltz me round
the flints of his seasonal sandstorms.
But that was then-
in those last moments at the bookstore .

When you see a couple
consumed in a public tiff,
don’t bash the one to stroke the other.
I believe you get my drift.
If they ever invite you
perhaps to stand as judge,
listen well and listen good
but make sure your lips don’t budge.
Because when the clash is over
and they’re professing love again,
you’ll look like a busybody
and lose not two friends but ten!
For they’ll malign you and redefine you,
tag you a murderer of happiness,
with your big mouth and know-all ways.
You’ll be appalled by all the nastiness!
So if you’re ever called upon
perhaps to stand as judge,
listen well and listen good
but make sure your lips don’t budge.