ONE LAST DANCE by Lekha Nambiar

My crane tipped junk into the landfill. The stench of decomposing waste

filled the air.

The sky was dark, for a ‘bright’ summer day. It started to rain- I watched the

paint on my crane buckle and warp with each drop.

Then I saw him, a tall broad -shouldered man, walking through that


” Get out,” I screamed, ” it’s poisonous”

The nothingness in his eyes coalesced into painful bitterness. I watched in

horror as his clothes melted off him. His scarf was now a snake, coiled

around his neck.

Slowly, sadly, he began to dance.