Breakfast. Poem by Hardik Vaidya

Yet to have breakfast,
Its 0919, forced fasts
Where is fast food?

He came a while ago,
Perhaps 0915
Hypodermic, a jab on my right
I feel mosquito bites,
Not the needles soft insight
what shall you have sir?
I ordered FBS, HbA1C please,
With a report at supper if you may please.
At your service sir, USD 11.
Money I love you, good service at convenience.

I went to my window sill,
Chanced to see a dove, in smooth flight,
Between to parallel steel bars, from extreme right,
To the pole of its universe on my extreme left.
Not once did it flap.
The world of men below moved and chugged,
Chaotic at their sense of ebb and flow.

It dawned on me, a matter of perspective,
I was free,
The sill was a mystery
The world was caged,
I was visiting them on a holiday,
Saying howdy?