Once I went to visit the Taj Mahal.
the white, translucent macabre I had heard , it once was.
But no longer, it seemed translucent by any means.
A little pale or maybe a light cream, you can call its hue now is,
I stood there in a wig, a brunette, I was trying to be.
I wanted to avoid my friends, by all means.
I frankly wanted to roam alone.
So I not only wore a wig, but a hat atop,
with pale dark glasses to match, covered my big, petal eyes.
Away from the crazy crowd,
I slowly took one step at a time.
It was still gorgeous,
Silent and calm, watching over men,
the cool floors enticed me.
I sat on the sides, under the shade for a while,
beside a man, quite unaware of him.
In a minute or two, he asked me,
“Are you from Greece?”
“No, why?” I noticed him for the first time.
“You look like a Greek Goddess.” He bluffed.
“Which one?” I prodded his knowledge.
After a while, he shouted, “Athena, I believe.”
“Well, Hungary, I am from Hungary.”
I held my nose a little high in the air.
He did not ask for my ticket or I could be caught.
After an entire minute, he spoke again.
“Do you know the Taj is on sale?”
Which Taj, I asked?”
“How many Taj’s do you know?” he challenged me.
“Many.” I told him and followed my friend’s queue.
While turning round the square corner, I quickly stashed my wig, hat and glasses in my duffel bag.
I also borrowed a long shrug from a friend to hide my frame,
as I slipped past the man.
But, I saw, by then, he
had already started selling the Taj to another svelte blonde.
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