BLIND HAWKER
Scattered all over the city are
worn out and disfigured dreams
of which the city dwellers are oblivious!
I roam around the city day and night
to collect them
Heat them in the furnace of my heart
so that the old rust on them comes off
Their limbs come out nice and clean
Their lips, cheeks and heads start shimmering
Like the desires of freshly dressed bridegrooms.
So that once again these dreams may find a direction!
"Dreams for sale, dreams ..."
As the morning dawns I go calling out in the streets....
"Are these dreams real or fake?"
They check them out as if there isn't anyone more
adept at judging them!
A dream maker I'm not either
just a face-lifter.
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