as usual, i'm dreaming of weird shit—

me humping a gravestone and coming

on the epitaph that says drafts of care

or us being together in future-past, or

a yesteryear actor ripping his shirt open

in his comeback film revealing guns for

nipples— when the doorbell wakes me up.

an entourage of white-clad men as a part

of their door-to-door campaign for the

urban-body polls. a man hands me a pamphlet

says our party's candidate seeks your blessing

i look at him, my eyes blurred with sleep.

candidate sees, says it seems we have disturbed

sir (sir?!) from his sleep, folds his hands

together in apology. i want to tell him

let me sleep now at least, before you win

and give us sleepless nights, but i just say

oh no, nothing like that. they tell me to remember

to vote for them. i don't tell them i don't

even remember my own dreams.

i go back to sleep and start dreaming

of a world where elections are forever

all the work is fast-tracked, all the roads

are always repaired, the sewage is always

treated, where the powerful always fold

their hands before us, always need us

and not just our altars of un-inked fingers.

~ ajay

13/2/2022