Slug

Slug slow
Gliding across the road
Apprehensive feelers
Slugs don't really want to go.
Slug, slug
The sun has come out
Melt away slug
Slowly dying
Slowly moving
Every act of yours
Is slower and
Heavier than the snails
In their curly homes.
Slug slow.
Why are little boys
So urgent to make you go?
Sprinkling salt on you
Those nasty brats
To help you on
And sometimes
I've seen you
Squashed to a mush of gooey
Nothing
In the middle of th a road,
Mashed into pulp
By an impatient
Man about town
Stepping lightly
With his swinging
Black umbrella.


1974
Simla