I

The Rag Pickers song.

We, the rag pickers
Have gathered here today -
At this deserted stand
On this wintry New Year’s Day,
And out of the heap of rubbish
We carry so faithfully in our sacks
We have sorted the choicest paper,
And made a little mound
Over which we have sprinkled
With some mumbo jumbo
A little kerosene,
Which our gem of a picker
“Rag-hu” found in a bottle
Lying outside the department store
Of Mr. hmmm… Miser. hmmm…
Of Mr. Miser whatever…
(What do we care for names today?
For daily associations on this day
When the years change)

We the ragpickers
We are glad
We attract attention today,
Even from those important men
In their important suits
And their more important cars,
They smile at us,
Perhaps we remind them of their less important days
Those happier days, those days spent
In the gentle winter sunshine,
Nurturing immodest dreams over modest tea.

Here come the men from work
With their weary faces and shivering limbs,
What better convenience than
To huddle around us
And stare at these blazing flames,
With a little resisting – supposing a trial by fire,
Or a little surrender – supposing a nurturing,
Even the policeman on duty has joined us
For we gladly miss his absence today,
And all we do and all we really wanted to do
Is circle around these ever dying flames,
Shouting a little merriment,
And wishing a happy new year ahead
Before the rubbish that feeds these flames is ash
And ashen is our faces again
As we go about picking your rags
On days in the New Year ahead.

II

The waiting

A cow
Stands attention
At a bus stand
On a wintry morning
Its eyes fixated ahead
Oblivious to any sound
Like a pilgrim
Meditating
On his journey ahead.

1/1/2008