half fried

It's not the taste of the hot chili pau bhaji on the street at 12 am
in Bombay's last suburb
Borivali

Hindi film over. Brothers reunite, kick crap. Feel-good post-Emergency
movie tickets are 115 paisas and passé
we stop at Maharashtra bakery that has an old (or was it young)
bearded Muslim guy in lungi selling buns

Dad's back
asking me if I know what Deewar means: cop and don with the metaphoric
Berlin Wall

and i awake from my half unsleep after 12:30 early morning
to the sound of eggs (read round potatoes) frying sunny side up

dad throws some chili powder and salt and the yellow looks bright on
winter night
and the crisp brown egg white comes alive in a bubble oil bath