Drab

These days I mostly 

Read, then I read some more.

The warm glow of the

Tablet, shimmering in the dull-luster glow of

Long-form literary journalism — 

Too intoxicating to ignore 

The article always starts with how the 

Author met with protagonist 

On a humid afternoon 

Or morning 

Before detailing out other mundane 

Things

How the con unfurled or how the mountain

Killed the half of them

It is essentially a drab thing to do

Say slightly better than doom-scrolling

Or reading some abstruse French theorist 

Or even wondering about your 

Conniving thuggish relatives 

Then at the end, the deal gets sweetened  with

Another enticing read

Privilege, racism, narcotics, AI

Whimsical writers and their equally insane

Editing counterparts 

No dearth of fodder in this big bad

Beautiful world of ours 

The gullible consumer inside of me

Is an easy prey 

Even for the otherwise docile 

Literary journalists. 

. Anant