The Holed Road

Is that a hole in the road

Or is the road in the hole

I have now forgotten

When I last saw a road whole

Wallowing from trough to hill

Tyres screeching on the tar

No escaping the inevitable

Be it truck, bus or car

These holes are not pots

But more like drums deep

Drop into and climb out

Their walls so steep

If they were any deeper

We would come out the other side

Save us the time and trouble

Of an expensive plane ride

Wait till the monsoons end

And we see the last rain

To see the roads whole

And straight and smooth again