A widespread condition
related to nutrition
is lactose intolerance
that is in essence
the inability to digest and assimilate
the milk sugar-lactose-the substrate
that is acted upon by lactase-
the specific enzyme
over a period of time.
This may happen suddenly
and generally
at any age most unexpectedly.

Lactose intolerance
is caused by the absence
of the enzyme lactase
that breaks down lactose
to the simple sugars-
glucose and galactose.
The condition may be
secondary,  congenital,
or developmental.

Secondary lactose intolerance
invariably has its occurrence
related to a gastrointestinal infection
and its disappearance
is linked to the causative factor’s correction.
This type of intolerance-
(certainly a nuisance)
is reversible
if we are a bit careful.

Congenital lactose intolerance,
an inherited form of intolerance,
is a rare genetic  abnormality
that one can unearth
soon after an infant’s birth.
This need not cause any fear
as it lasts only half a year.

Developmental lactose intolerance
also known as primary  intolerance
is one wherein the enzyme synthesis
is progressively less
during childhood
and this persists into adulthood.

Gita Ashok
24/10/2011, 2 pm

It took my love, It took me down
Called my inside to be found
And I saw my reflection in the mirror of your face
Till the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I write what's changing the ocean inside?
Can I hold the reasons for my life?

Mmm, mmm, mmm

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes it bolder
Even music gets older and I'm getting older too

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes it bolder
Even music gets older and I'm getting older too
Oh, I'm getting older too

Awh, take my love, take me down
Awh, you called my inside to be found
And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face
Well, the landslide brang it down

And if you see my reflection in the mirror of your face
Well, the landslide brang it down
Oh, the landslide brang me down

Remnants
  of a plastic world
    haphazardly dropped
      in the duff of pinecones and bracken
        litter this redwood path.

Our thoughtless leavings -
  shiny mylar strings
    and red straws -
      must sadden the bluejays
         watching from hidden branches.

on the walk home tonight the stars seemed to speak
like fireflies buzzing – or was it the headlights on the freeway?
the sounds of the sky muffled by flourescent noise

I often wonder if the stars we gaze upon
look down on us and think to themselves, is this really home?
they seem so content with their space

maybe meteors are sad bits of energy
longing to escape the realm of their reality
or maybe they’re just lost and stuck like the rest of us

staring into the universe even breathing seems obsolete
for there is so much more than what we see when we look outside our windows
do we see our creator?
or just our own creations?

It's the smell. The smell of hundred-year-old
hardwood floors in this old school I recognize most,
floors grown thick and corpulent with untold layers
of pine-scented oil - floors darkened, smoothed
by the trample of children herded, then corralled
in dank stables down those long corridors. I also
remember the confinement I felt, pinned within
those stables, wanting nothing more than to run free,
with the wind of youth combing my untamed hair.

–

bruises on my feet from
a night i can't remember
in that town that i can still
navigate with my brain
turned off and my body
left to it's own devices, a
dangerous moment, but
i've been here before

a zombie version of myself
wanders down main street
staggering back to a home
that's not mine to crash in
a bed that i once would hide
in, alone, and it's crushing
this spirt of mine

and when i wake up the
next day to peals of laughter
and look at myself and don't
understand, i'm a mess and
a martyr who just can't grow
up yet and i'm bitter and
wishing that time was on
my side

when i pick up the phone
it's you that i hear now and
i'd do anything to turn back
the clock, but it's me and i'm
alone and i can't reach the
hands now, and breaking
it is the only way of making
it stop

It makes me sick to see
The bodies of women
I’m so Ensnared. So Enraptured
So Enthralled
by the bodies of women

My breath quickens. Chest
Tightens. Tightens. Tightens.
My eyes dart from what they want

I’m frightened to see
The bodies of women
I know I only need to hear a word
Or two
And I’d **** my obligations away

Oh
I could be so impulsive
If I only was given the chance

She’s cracking eggs.
“What are those?” she asks, pointing to white and red specks in the bowl.
Once I’d have told her it was shell-
but she’s too old for that now
so-
“Where the eggs started to grow”
“Into chickens?”
“Yes”
“Oh” she says, staring intently at a gooey mess in the palm of her hand.
I finish weighing out the ingredients,
wipe her clean-
“Which colour icing do you want?”
She’s carefully spooning cake mix into bright-striped paper cases.
“Can we make angel cakes instead?”
I go into the kitchen to pre-heat the oven,
steal two minutes silence.
Deep breath.
“No. We'd be cutting up perfect little cupcakes to make the wings”
Choked.
I can’t tell her why
I don’t do Angels in December.