When I Get To Bombay …
I will bathe my eyes in the warm bright light …
stand under a cold cold shower
and feel new,
I will drink chai in a dark street-side tea-shop
perhaps with a biscuit or samosa
as the fan turns and I gaze gently
upon the portraits
of the gods
and goddesses.
I will accept the gaze of strangers
as why ever not
as who am I?
I will return the smile of beggars
as why not
no harm
is done.
I will take off my sandals and enter the temple
and wander silently and try
not to think too much
as I spend some time
in the presence
of the Lord.
I will have a 15 cent rice plate
perhaps with fish
though just one piece
is all you get,
perhaps
with mutton,
depending.
I will visit a tailor and
for just a few dollars,
will be fitted out
for a light shirt
and pyjama trousers,
then returning to my hotel
will give all my western clothes
to the boy who looks after
the laundry,
to do with
as he wishes.
I will be up at dawn
as the crows caw
the vultures fall
and the monkeys
scatter,
and soon the
shiny bright children
will wander by
chattering
as they go to school.
I will find the Govt store,
often just a hole
in the wall
with bars,
where I'll get
some ganja
some hash
unless they're
out of stock
that day.
I will drink from a green coconut
that's just been opened
for me as we stand
together next his cart
by a youngster
with a machete.
I will find sweetmeats
with dripping honey
and almond slices
and thick thick syrup
and coconut
and have more
chai and relax
and await
the night.
I will see fruit-bats
and rats
and huge lumbering
white cows
and wheeling hawks.
I will shower once more
feel cool and refreshed
light incense
in a packet so colored
and gaudy,
and smoke,
listen,
and wait.
I will immerse myself,
I will dare,
I will enter
the still moving
throngs,
shouting and calling
and never
tiring,
always
to-ing and fro-ing.
I will wander back
amongst the draped
and sleeping figures,
mindful
hopeful,
and
I will smile.