Who controlled the lolling of his tongue
Who learned to bathe and wash his shirt
Who greets each day with joy
And whose joy is in his improvement, his energy, his own happiness, his wry smile, the belt he must double up to accommodate his tiny waist
Selva anticipates if you want a drink
And brings you the right glass
And hops to it for another call
And has a poise of his own
And consults on the cinema
And hails from Kokkodachcholai
Where the worst massacres of civilians, hundreds of them, women and children, perpetrated by the Sri Lanka military took place just before he was born
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