sometimes I'm soothed by the
monotony of consumerism bcz

the exquisite exotic the specific
specialty the themed cuisine the

real demands one to be alive but
I'm mostly dead / I've never felt

awkward passing alone through
the golden arches of the McD on

the shore of the plaza never didnt
like the probably reheated mass

produced burger bcz I got exactly
what I expected never failed to

fake thank the person at the counter
with the fake smile tearing my

receipt in a kafkaesque waiting bcz
in that brief exchange of hands over

the covenant of data we both know
we realize the world is fucked up &

we're no more than billing counter
no. 2 & token no. 248 / even the

ketchup packet tells me with a lil
black scissor over dotted lines

[ tear here ] & I tear there I'm a
simple guy I dip my french fries

in mass produced tomato blood //
& when after having watched the

mass masala movie having skipped
the too-expensive in-theatre food

having escalatored down / mummy
papa go to the dhaba outside while

me & my sis come to this McD I
realize generation gap is expensive

indoor real estate & contested mall
space & family is more emotional
profit than love

~Ajay
4/2/2021