BEING RED IN THE RAIN

At the gruelling hour of three, I was scratching at my new grown ringworm (Apply Betamethasone Valerate, Gentamicin and Miconazole Nitrate). Looked pretty. A bit patchy but white, li'l bits o' the' skin littered about all o' th' place but yet, neat.

I'd noticed neat boundaries marking it off the skin. What was that thing about the hairy mantle? Can't remember anyway. Read somethin' about a guy called Tedd Chatterjee though. Tedd Chatterjee, who would eat and drink and vomit, drink and eat and vomit, vomit and drink and eat. But I was not sure regarding the order of his actions. It would be fun to see Chatterjee drink his vomit or to think that the brewers had a contract with him 'oglin' out the best Russian Vodka for them to hold in bottles. So I pondered. And then again, there was the Hindoo mystic who preached to me about the 'natural order' of things and the utility of shedding your foreskins. ("Do you shed your foreskin, son? It's not our custom, so 'twould be unlikely that you would, but supposing you did...")

Rains drip. Drip. Drip.

When will you dig up the Earth for me? You dig and dig and dig and off she comes! The queen of the termites blathering out in saliva. I've seen her send out her children who in two days make a jungle outta the city. But now the rains, and "...glurrp glurrp, it's breedin' season, foulkes!!!"

The cigarette burns away in the rains.
Red outta the ash
But you gotta blame Virginia Woolf
'Coz she'd picked my thought like mash.

Rains drip. Drip. Drip.

Fancied color red. The old hag churns out "Red river, red river/ Sloww() floww() hea-eat is si-lence..." And plenty a'stuff 'bout Tamerlane and the Mongol ink. Sashes of velvet. ("O red! My pretty coz red!!")

By the evening hour(that strives), I saw my ringworm grow dry and tight. And by night, sharpened fingernails had made it red.

Ah, my worm,
My lit'l lit'l worm!!

Rains drip. Drip. Drip.
My ringworms itch. Itch. Itch.