Identity

Identity

Here I stand in my kitchen,the shelf ill arranged,
the rotten tomatoes and coriander inviting the tiny
insects a,mockery on my carelessness,I search for
the knief hidden in the bunch of green chillies slowly
changing the colour into red, half visible,like the woman, totally
in contrast with the deep and as changing as
the chameleon not visible to the plain and open,
the woman has many followers,
the water does not flow for the rust and mud blocks
in the pipeline, by the time the plumber decides to attend
I go berserk,
I prepare ' Whitsun Weddings' for the next class,
the bread crumbs in the pan go black,
a hurried jump from my table is only to remove
and empty the vessel, the sincerity I pay,
I learnt a lesson,the book and the pan
hardly ever go together.