numbered , for perpetuity
slid into an array
that parses my habits
fetishes
bank account name

my googly habits
every mouse click
archived
recalled remembered

so I am again the whole
of data bits bytes
the last site
I accidentally

clicked on where
naked gnomes
did unsightly things on the lawn
after dark

I must live up to it all
can't hide now
just tell me
it is not

gonna be shared to
my ole mama
in Michigan
who goes

by the name
of old hot mama!
like she did back in the day

when CB's ruled

I sit on top deck
watching the world go by and
I think of a giraffe

Dear Poet Friend, I have tried to render a true story in verse, which our school teacher had told us way back in the 1950s! If you like it,
kindly re-post the same. Thanks, - Raj Nandy            

           ON THE PSYCHIATRIST’S COUCH !
A man under depression met a psychiatrist one day,
And began to speak as on the couch he lay.
“Doc I feel depressed all day, as if a pall of mist is
surrounding me,
I move around like a lifeless robot you see;
I wonder what has come over me?”

The doctor said, “Cheer up my friend, from your
daily routine you must now take a break!
A new circus has come to town, and there is that
famous Grock the jovial clown.
His antics will make you laugh your guts out.
For Laughter is the best medicine for you no doubt!”

But the sad old man with his long drawn face,
Was not impressed with what the Doctor said.
He got up from the couch with a frown,
And said, - “Doctor I am Grock, that circus clown !”
                                                -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.