Mr.Subramaniam is at Coffee House,
sharing a table with two gay men.
On his right the table meets a window and on his left
these men.
He's stuck.
Aiyoo, he thinks,
his face expressionless.
'How to get out?'
Do I say 'side please?'
'Excuse me sirs?'
'Should I simply push my way?'
'What is this generation coming to
publically holding hands and all!
Why they have to come and eat breakfast here?
Why they can't go to Koshy's or something?'
His forehead, with ash and vermilion,
gets three lines as he sighs.
'Sir, please move', he says.
One of them makes way.
Mr. Subramaniam leaves.
The couple, they
continue to laugh, hold hands and munch on toast.