their dreams held in
captivity on a chair
where the customer
sits. .thats it .
moving fingers
dancing wrists
chewing gutka
on the road he
spits ..looking
in the mirror
two heads
two faces
he continues
with his
bullshit
the tailor
ran away
with the
milkmans
daughter
to wit
the towns
gossip
at his
fingertips
his tongue
his gift
between
his mind
his scissors
no rift
control
shift
the flesh
was willing
the spirit
drifts ,,
