Calcutta - a sort of homecoming

These city walls strut their mutable boundaries
Convenient youngsters enslave to undertakers of west, but then calcutta
You happen to wearied souls, retracing curves not so rectilinear
Childless, fatherless ignorant youth thrive on macdonalds
Sentimental gibberish hang, between their balls and promised cocks..
Where are we going tonight, calcutta? Straddling between poetic delusions
Of rhymed supermarkets, drenched plasticity of silver screens.
I love you still, in wine or in poetry or in vices
I can only be drunk, hate the negro streets and love you still.