We may talk about the old heads
Against the recent ones in street
Those who look up at their heads
To ascertain if and how they talk .

The recent ones go into teleology
To decide if those  heads may talk,
Who are their baby sitters by day
Or yawning story tellers by night.

In streets they are an aggregate.
The heads bob up ,turn sideways
As they gather their earth’s dust
For thin cover on parched faces.

The recent ones listen to uncles
And aunts under dark staircases,
The latter words invisible by day
But at times ascending by night.

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