The Broadlands

Quiet in the Broadlands

You can still see the markings

On the wall

A no Indian policy here

The German tells he’s going

To Osho plenty of good fucks

There

Restless I wander into the streets

Chai man/laundry man/pimp man

Sing their songs

A man with no legs scuttles past

Strapped to a runway board

On wheels

A bus is headed for anywhere

Dripping of marigolds nearby

Shit steams off the road.

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