17. ORPHAN ON THE STREET
I awoke with an enchanting smile in the morning on a mattress of painted silver,
the orphan in the street wiped his face of obnoxious dirt.
I entered my Spanish lavatory to expurgate my bowels,
the orphan in the street sat down in wild grass emanating from fields of paddy.
I brushed my teeth with satiny floss and dental paste,
the orphan in the street used a brittle neem stick to polish his worn enamel.
I washed my face with perfumed soap and lascivious cream,
the orphan on the street used a curry of mud to clean streaks of blotted dirt.
I draped my persona with garments of rich denim blended with flocculent thread,
the orphan on the street wore a soiled jute sack hanging like a scarecrow on his body.
I slipped my dainty toes in cushioned interiors of my velvet shoes,
the orphan on the street left his chapped bohemian feet bare.
I dedicated gargantuan amounts of time trimming my bushy whiskers,
the orphan on the street was obsessed chopping slices of tree lumber.
I exited for office; in the royal camouflage of my honey brown Mercedes,
the orphan in the street traversed kilometers in the naked Sun; to reach the mill he worked in.
I worked in an refrigerated ambience juxtaposed with abundant flora,
the orphan in the street perspired in sweltering currents of heat.
I came back home before dusk strangulated light,
the orphan on the street arrived a few minutes past midnight.
I then thought I had seen enough of agony; distressing discrimination,
took the orphan in the street within the candid comfort of my arms,
fed him with sumptuous food; after scrubbing his silhouette with tons of carbolic,
made him sleep in furry quilts beside me;
with mesmerizing notes of music diffusing from the CD systems.
He slept like an untamed horse all night; and when he got up in the morning; there were tears dribbling down his soft cheek,
he hadn't words to express his gratitude; the spontaneity of love he had; for the first time in his life received.