Wallet Poem by Sachidananda Panda

Like an obedient child or a stooge
Depending on the master's mood
Like few dotes, scribbled rough
They Pop up and down at regular intervals
Adding riches to the beggar's bucket
On the display boards of the streets
On lipstick corners or at the green grocers

Fatter they become, thinner they grow
On the verticals of weird angles
They pop up on the giggles of the fish market
Adding comforts to moments few
They exhale their hearts out
On the moles of bare bosoms

On the 'varanda' of a profile upright
To set the brows to be on its place
For committed mistakes on check posts
They pop up every now and then
Pampering a false vanity

The ordeal never stops there too
They pop up to fill, the whims of the boss
Neighing neighbours at odds
In the beakers at a beer bar
To make the night look greener

They pop up to heal the past
Between the faces of today and tomorrow
They like to stay in limbo, dwindling
Weighing the possibilities,
Prioritizing between
How to have a double ham in one go

Things come to a stand still
No pop up or no will,
Listed long on dotted lines
On torn pages of compromises
They appear popped off
Sans a spine to sustain
The onslaught of time

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