Release Me from the Paying Passenger Poem by Prageeta Sharma

There is nothing to really note in this world

you might say. But since crescent moons

frame brittle grass all over the world,
I won't stop with this philosophy. I won
the argument yesterday when we were nearby
the park and the day before when you ran me over.

I have run away from you-with accidental
fortune in hands-not all of your bank statements.

But I am not a Calvinist in the true sense-I only
lowered it to ahistorical terms. I believe in principles-

prophetic principles. You say marred and I say martyr.
I drink two liters; you don't drink anything.

There are pests roaming the floorboards.
There are animals all around us now.

Save the foolhardy measure for your male companions.
They desire this more readily-

more enigma, shall we say, to entertain them-
barren matadors or empathetics.

I need neither kind of grand marnier nor vodka

to wash my throat or collapse my senses to tiny

careless obliterations. The way this ended shut you out,
so drop the lensatic compass and lavish gift, and please, run.