Three boys linger
in front of a sweet shop
The oldest ( porter's rope tossed
over his shoulder) slips a hand
into his shirt and pulls out a rupee
At their feet, in front of a window where sweets are stacked,
a boy crouches selling cigarettes
Though they look and point
at the halva and cakes,
the oldest buys a smoke and
lights it with a burning rope |
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"Come on, let's go," he gestures
moving on ahead
The cigarette boy
slides a tin out from under his tray
counts his earnings twice-through
and then again. All day
he sits by the street
while buses idle and motors grind
Behind glass, the lordly flies
feast on orange colored cakes
and candies |
