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Sep 2016
You're going on the highway,
Bringing a new 4-string bass guitar,
And a drum-set too for your sons.

Now you could be a family rock band,
You could churn your own Summer of '69,
The world will know you three now.

A really ******* hitchhikes in your car,
You are tensed as your eyes meet.
There is unfathomable longing in hers,
And the bathykolpian woman's so inviting.
You can't play the good man at this age,
You decide to cheat your own wife now.

You stop the car quickly anyhow,
A quickee's on your mind & nothin' more.
She smiles at you and lunging towards her,
You smell the inviting scent of hers.
In middle of the kiss you start foreseeing,
You forsee a bright romantic future,
Suddenly her wellbeing's lost & she vomits.

Then you bring her to the hospital,
The gynaecologist congratulates you,
"Congrats! You're going to be a father!"
Taken aback, you say, "But I just met her!"
The girl who hitchhiked says, "He's ****** lying!"
The doc summons the police and your test is done,
"Good news & bad news," the doc says,
"One, you're not her baby's father."
Hearing this you're relieved.
"Now the bad news, doc," you say.
The doc says, "You could have never have fathered any even if you intended to."
You are flabbergasted, "What the hell! Why?"
The doc pacifies, "Your load doesn't have any sperms,"
Seeing you shocked the doctor says,
"It's a birth defect that happens rarely but yes it does..."
"...You may sue the girl for everything."

The biggest shock in your life so far.

You just shake your head and turn around to go.

You're in the middle of a nightmare,
It couldn't be true!
If not you then the 2 kids back home,
They belonged to whom!


Now that's the biggest tension!
Part 1/2

HP Poem #1156
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl
Written by
Àŧùl  30/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ
(30/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ)   
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