An Ode On Urination
Think of urinating in blank unpeopled streets,
silent, late at midnight.
Not a single soul.
Your will directs you to
unzip and ease yourself.
I made the street corners wet, late at nights.
A land without lavatories is a open loo.
'Wetting' the street in Maargazhi mornings
is sheer pleasure.
It is subjective.
(Come to my town,
I will take you
on a night tour
in the partially – lit lanes.)
I repeat, 'Some pleasures are subjectively felt.'
It eases my urethra,
True sensation of relief.
I swear it is to heart's contentment.
Peeing is easier with dhoti dress.
(I know it personally)
The pitch dark ditch
filled with banana peels, egg shells,
disposed cigarette cases,
the mark of a social decay.
Lifting my dhoti,
I ease out a steaming stream,
clear as clinical distilled water,
hot as fresh, brewed coffee.
The pleasure of relief is inexplicable.
I say, the feeling is subjective.