Talkative Strangers

>> Tuesday, July 29, 2008

He’s lying here next to me.

His parents might just barge in.
Or they’ll just be glad they had him insured.

Maybe a truck hit him.
Or a freak cricket ball.
He might have just ignored the instructions by the quack.
Maybe his bastard son decided to drop in and say Hi. For the first time.

He might have been planning a picnic next month. Kids, pretty wife, ugly pug, SUV et al.
Could have been too freaking high.
Might have been envying the girl on a guys arm.

So, what did he have for dinner?
Khichdi?
Wine and Caviar?
1 ½ egg sandwiches?
A banana and a glass of milk?

Perhaps he was watching a boring soap on TV before that.
Or was at the movies with friends.
Or struggling to scratch his nose in the sardined train.

Maybe he was saving countless lives with his doctoral skills.
Or smoking off RichDaddy’s money.
He just might have discovered the solution for an alternative fuel.

Might be a Sagittarian.
Agnostic.
Billionaire.
Masochistic Paedophile.

55?
27?
63?
20 years, 11 months and 364 days?
Birthday boy?

His name might be Arun.
Albert.
Abul.
Chinkabawook.

A gazillion thoughts must be flooding his bewildered mind right now.
The Last One being why he’s lying next to me in the morgue.

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