Dedicated to All Anon Multi Nic Cowards and the Chowk Staff Who Protects Them

Dedicated to Tampax, et al:

Imagine the pile of steaming
donkey shit, pungent universes
punctuating every stretch of india,
pakistan, the grass, weeds and straw
machined through the entrails
of the smallest drudge. Regular citizens,
starched and perfumed, look closer, listen
for the tinny, automatic whine. Not the koels and their melancholy refrain, nor the raccous dissembling of crows, not cowbells from a distance, afghanis shouting out their wares, not the stray cats, scrawning the alleys, but a endless, nasal drone.

Move in even closer, normal reader
and this universe is revealed-a entire
colony settled on their mantle of hot
droppings, a strange and disturbing world!
The drone becomes louder, sharper until horrors, you see them: a thousand tiny gnats. Watch them rub their hairy wire arms
together, touch each other with their long,
blood thirsty noses. They circle each other, mate, clean each other of feces before they dive into the pile again. They spawn and die and are reborn, identical faces until it seems they look into an endless mirror. I have no name! they buzz busily, spawning, dying, rebirthing. I have no self! they hover over their colony of shit, congratulating each other on how beautiful they are.