Something there’s in me that makes me a leech
the cot,the chair, the man, the friend
that I latch on to almost desperately.
Leech-like I hang on to a word
to a touch or a hope or strangely even my work!
Or my Cosmopolitan mixed as it is
in tenderness of coconut and the lightness of vodka.
What’s is it in me that makes me the leech
clinging to my wife’s pallu
holding on,when she is furiously storming out
or that particular adhesive that makes me see her
a girl I knew once, now old and faded
or those various opinions I hold on to
as if it were my lifeline.
They call me adamant, well !I would not say that
yes, I am a bit of a leech
a bit leech-like that’s me!