Not just on zebras,
Even on your body, there’s a patchwork of stains,
Which gets busy on any green signal.
Traffic police,
Thus, indeed, waves their right hand,
Left hand too.
Engulfed in comments-likes-shares,
Days are passing divine,
‘One week goes by, then comes another week.’
That’s the fun of the buffet system,
You can burp, as much as you can.
Amid the cacophony in this city,
I hear a silence steel.
I bet on a snail while hares and tortoises’ race by.
