A tale to tell
I have a tale to tell.
It is real but names I cannot spell.
Because men are born brothers, and we don't kiss and yell.
My buddy was a Muslim, he was a Casanova,
He had it in him to woo women like Sean Connery in early drama.
He laid her eyes on her,
She melted like vanilla,
They made love on the tripods of Worli,
She took him in her mouth, and swallowed his Qoran.
Then things went further, she chose not to bother,
She said I am not a Muslim, therefore your bed I cannot grace,
He once and just once shared, even though I were Hindu,
Because Brothers are not born of a wedlock of some stupid Sindhus,
He lamented what was so different in my Qoran then and now,
That after swallowing my life, she finds it biblically unright?
Hardik Vaidya's Other Poems
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