A Song 229

between is, is not
bhakti eats bhakt.


....

March sun
over Lady, Old Man
under Karuna banyan;
road smelters,
snooze hard to come by,
a burning, unskins.
Lady hops to a vendor,
for two Bira 91;
drinks are no sins,
(match fixing sure is)
muses Lady over a buckled
Old Man.
With summer on,
schools shut,
cant buy laughs from
kids with Kismis.
Clicking Bira 91 bottles,
sip in silence...
waltz to a piano sitting
a few steps away,
playing notes lent
by a Parsi soaked in Chopin.
A young nun,
off duty,
their friend,
spiked in psalms,
came on.
Lady, Old Man
went for a second,
a third....
their day made...
evenings on knees
before Karuna banyan,
happily clunked,
a summer done.