My Car

My car;

In London, it is full of autumns leafs ,  take a picture, the whole world under this sky, whether you want Tandoori Chicken or Mexican burrito. Traveling the upper floor of a two-story bus makes me thinking why they name it “ Tottenham’s  Hell or something   “– this subway station.

In New York, it is broken by gangs, wallet with no money, got stolen, call Police, make claim, kept busy  with Police and stuff; eat  fast food all day, here black or white; rich or poor ; easy and sample ;  everyone is busy here, thinking about money and money only, whether to steal, grab, theft or any way to make money and money .

In Toronto , got a  yellow ticket from City  , pay the ticket , need to work more to pay this bills and bills but at evening ; see my people for Thanksgiving or for Halloween  party , my best friends and friend or  relatives   , when start going at primary school together , my socialization , start cooking , my inspiration  to write more and more

In Singapore, Thailand, Malaysia or Vietnam; surrounding by girls and girls or boys and boys; no money but happy and happy; with seafood, lost here myself.

In Dhaka, it smells Bengali people, culture, accent, food, breath or birth, with all over its mud, but with full of foolish Big political peoples’ big talking, with an empty head, talking and talking.

In the Middle East, in Iraq or Syria, it’s bombed, it got a bullet shot all over it; it is upside down on fire, thinking how could escape from here.

In Delhi; hush; cannot talk; cannot smile; cannot breathe or do anything, my fears if my grand brother will slap my face, here.

In Columbia or Latin America, see poverty, hungry kids, hungry people or hungry women, are surrounding me, imperialism steals everything, give them fake Nobel trophy, here.

In Rome, my people put a cleaning stick to my car, on the stoplight and after that, it got  stolen, doesn’t matter, al list enjoyed Hilsha fish in my villages people house for  that night dinner and

in morning Italiano  espresso

coffee, without knowing Italiano

In Moscow, in is covered by snow, too much job for me to remove the snow, it smells with Russian Vodka, Kremlin, Pushkin Square, Babushka or may be Debushka.

In Kandahar, Opium business’s haven, big transaction big money, hungry kids are busy with farming here; car got stolen, and need a ride by donkey

In Dubai, someone drives me, big investment, money from, money laundering or smuggling, doesn’t matter, it’s pretty here, everything is legal here, whether Girls or Mosque, I can tale real, secularism, how many types it could be, here.

In Modena, only men everywhere, men after men; all the women are disappearing, lost, stolen or may not exist here;

In Beijing is Socialism, no access to my car, I heard they Pay Opium to their slave employee’s here.

In Melbourne, never been there.