A working-class hero,
a blue collar soldier,
a vigorous man though
never larger than life.
Those are stories from
the first world where
a carpenter cooks with
a Harvard Graduate on
a reality show, a team
challenge, an unlikely duo.
But here in the land of
slush and gutters
where you clean someone’s
toilet for a salary
that equals the amount they
spend each day on
cigarettes and cola bottles,
you’re nothing but a
working-class zero,
a brown uniform wearing
sewer rat, taking it out
on your wife after they make
you use a latrine,
give you an amebiasis tablet
because they know
that you’re the cause,
for their farting and
explosive shits.
Dirty man! Touching
filth and dipping his hand
in our curries. Yes,
that’s who you are.
The arak drinking,
beedi smoking,
diseased whore screwing,
beneath their class
dirty man with halitosis,
and you can’t do a damn
thing about it.
Just a Writer 