9/11, a Dream Come True

It was that Tuesday I had that big dream
Of a big windy city collapsing in chicken hearted reign of long colonial conquest
As two big birds after long years' kamikaze like the Fat Boy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Flapped their wings of fire and shot into the big head
Of cerebral thrombosis, the gods of small children not wept smilingly
To play ducks and drakes with the concrete fibrosis of the big walls in pools of black blood

That big Tuesday of the ninth September with no awe and shock
I woke up with bated breath from my big dream to clap my hands from the depth of my pent-up voice
With wistful eyes seeing the rubbles of the monster of power razed to the ground with a big thud
And I again clapped my hands and counted the rosary again and again
To pray to the gods' small children for setting a thief to catch a thief for sometime to forget it not
And I forgot it not, that big dream stills burns my flesh for a bigger day to burn the whorehouse into dusts and ashes.