Tuesday, 19 February 2008
digging into fruit punch
his white t-shirt splattered with mud
grass staining it green,
he kept digging hard soil
sweat streaked down his body
doggedly he went on
smoothening the wide trench
he paused, admiring his handiwork-
took a swig from his fruit punch.
dragging the bag from the boot of his car
he buried it deep, marking it
with imaginary trees
for future reference, just in case.
no way he would come back for his dead wife
he had not killed her to get back to her.
he walked to his car, stopped. looking back
took another swig from his fruit punch.
possessed by some demons, he drove away
fast. with cool deliberation he went over the cliff
his car caught fire before blowing up.
who can unravel what were his last thoughts?