The Stink of Shit
The stink of shit washes over me,
Permeating my every pore.
I verge on retching.
Recent mounds of shit
Sit here and there.
Everywhere, the smear
Of shit from yesterdays
Is dragged along
On wheels and feet.
Cows, lunching on garbage,
The main producers of this shit,
Stand or lay,
Serenely watching.
Watching motorcycles, cars and trucks
Trying not to hit them.
Watching colourful sari clad women,
With water jugs on their heads,
Weave around them.
Cows are not immune to beauty.
Amid the blaring horns and chaos
They radiate tranquility.
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