Poem for Wednesday, July 1, 2009

In India, I

sold your soul

on the market streets of

New Dehli (you

                     must

                     forgive me)

a Brahman man

with two sacred heifers

paid me plenty of

rupees and a bottle of

dharma

            mumbled

something in Hindi

                     (or

                      was it

                      Punjabi?) and

I nodded in concurrence

I nodded and

I sold your soul again for

gracious karma

oozing out of a

lonely tree like sweet

melodies from Krishna's

flute

                     (even though

                      he's

                      Hindu)

Hindu

and me

and you