Something there’s in me that makes me a leech

the cot,the chair, the man, the friend

that I latch on to almost desperately.

Leech-like I hang on to a word

to a touch or a hope or strangely even my  work!

Or my Cosmopolitan mixed as it is

in tenderness of coconut and the lightness of vodka.

What’s is it in me that makes me the leech

clinging to my wife’s pallu

holding on,when she is furiously storming out

or that particular adhesive that makes me see her

a girl I knew once, now old and faded

or those various opinions I hold on to

as if it were my lifeline.

They call me adamant, well !I would not say that

yes, I am a bit of a leech

a bit leech-like that’s me!