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To Prasenjit Maiti's previous pieceCold Collation
You and me in Paradise whie my salad days fornicate in Calcutta, my days and ways being served as funky platters of crab casserole, ecstatic white steam sizzling and blue skies burning in agony . . . We know ice tea to induce quickies so we squeeze green lemons like cruelty, discard white and yellow pips like disdain, Do not Disturb signs hanging frayed and loose across our Anniversary Suite, the AC hums like sex as wine glasses crash against wine glasses and the blue smoke of ciagarettes . . . You and me in Paradise while our gay salad days make hay in Calcutta, your rightful place in the sun hanging loose like my destiny and precarious like dollops of ice cream, you scream, I scream, we all scream for ice cream!