sometimes I'm soothed by the
monotony of consumerism bcz
the exquisite exotic the specific
specialty the themed cuisine the
real demands one to be alive but
I'm mostly dead / I've never felt
awkward passing alone through
the golden arches of the McD on
the shore of the plaza never didnt
like the probably reheated mass
produced burger bcz I got exactly
what I expected never failed to
fake thank the person at the counter
with the fake smile tearing my
receipt in a kafkaesque waiting bcz
in that brief exchange of hands over
the covenant of data we both know
we realize the world is fucked up &
we're no more than billing counter
no. 2 & token no. 248 / even the
ketchup packet tells me with a lil
black scissor over dotted lines
[ tear here ] & I tear there I'm a
simple guy I dip my french fries
in mass produced tomato blood //
& when after having watched the
mass masala movie having skipped
the too-expensive in-theatre food
having escalatored down / mummy
papa go to the dhaba outside while
me & my sis come to this McD I
realize generation gap is expensive
indoor real estate & contested mall
space & family is more emotional
profit than love
~Ajay
4/2/2021
