Mighty Falafel

Half past 11, overtime,
I'm overworked, underpaid
"Why doesn't the clock strike sooner?"
I constantly whine

The most exciting part of my day
Is racing across the street
And grabbing that last falafel
Before the cart speeds away.

The elevator bell
I can't believe it still works
I must be earlier than usual
Oh, glorious falafel.

An empty park bench!
Why do I feel so lucky?
I check my soles for gum
A sticky mass I wrench.

Who is this woman? Why the haste?
I see through her clothes
And feel like a pervert
My eyes down her waist.

Unknown to the self, a tale is made
She's a part time hooker
Part time day, part time night
At least someone's getting laid.

I wake up from a sordid slumber
Did I imagine it all?
Who dares awaken me?
The mighty sound of thunder.

I stare from where I stand
Watching the midnight lights
On a murky lake
I see the shadows expand.

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All written text is copyright of the writer/owner - © Arvind