Belle de nuit

When the city returns from work
She adjusts her hair locks...
Just where the flyover takes the speed
To defy the printed limit
on blue boards that glow in dark...
She also arrives to stand...stark...
A lone lustrous figure on dazzle...
To stomach taunts...gestures...smoke from muzzle-
Of cars that don't bother to stop...

The city night descends quiet
As she waits eager for headlight
That would come and switch off
To take her to the exact spot
where a machine would for her churn
Coins and dough after a complete burn
of mechanical pulls and pushes...
of playing around shrubs and bushes...
Of human anatomy...hormonal desires
Of plunging full in mud and mires...

Then at the day break
She would invariably a long deep breath take...
As if her night has finally come
to give her tranquility some...
As the pigeons on lonely streets catch chaff
As the milkman with cans of life emerge...
She takes her refuge in sleep
And surely dreams of oceans deep
where dolphins play and sun paints joys
She in sleep with impossiblities toys...

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