First there is a mango then there is no mango then there is.
In the beginning Gandharvika and Giridhari are combine as one Mahaprabhu dressed in mango color dhoti and kirta
Then they separate for past times and Gandharvika dresses in after Midnight blue
While Giridhari goes for the color of electric bananas, they call it mellow yellow
Then there is no mango
Then seeing Gandharvika dressed in midnight blue it causes Giridhari some thought and desire to find out just what her ecstatic mood is all about. He covers himself with her golden luster and emotion
Then there is.
Gandharivka’s beautiful blue dress, Sue ‘nila vasana
As I come to the end of the long and winding road from the asrama the next road has been roughed up for repaving. The roughness sends me to the sidewalk at least to the parking lot of the invisible convenience store and the hospital. Passing through there the velvet trail way returns speeding down the bridge over the troubled freeway with king Midas on the left side. The trafficasorous forces me once again to pass the whaler’s, the post office and the people’s park. But the gecko gives me shelter from the autostorm. I go on around the man in the photo shop. Then comes the island where the breath of life grows. I pass a flock of e-bikes as we go up a hill and they look on in disbelief. Circling around I go back on into the forest of the downtown where the baboons jump. Easing up the hill to the railroad bridge and going to the right I come to the bhajan kutir of Bhakta Blade. He must be out taking the name some other where so I continue in a peleton of recumbent peddlers. Breaking formation at the swift corner I take a lap around the garden without a home. Retracing my tracks I approach the spinner’s church and go back around the park of water treatment. Passing the dream inn I view the skaters doing fruit-de-loops and laughing as they’re high fiving in mid air. A mountaineer is ahead me grooving down slowly but it’s too narrow to overtake so I wait until the legendary vacant lot where I go on by. At the light a fixed gear head stands in his toe clips and awaits the changing. His colored spokes gleam as he flies down the road. I come behind to go past the shopper’s corner and cruiser king the dog wash and Saint Dagwood’s river. The bear is fast asleep but the trader is waiting for me. I come along and for the first time of the year I light up the night all the way back to the asrama.
Ah, yes, this evening Riding on a horse of a different color, Vamsi dasa Babaji enters marakata mani puri talking like a pirate. Bhakta Blade reminds me that one of our brownie lovers was also wearing an eye patch the last time we saw him. He asked us to excuse his pirate appearance so perhaps he would also enter marakata mani puri. When he put Giridhari's coat on him the swirl was so fast that Giridhari looked a lot like he was flying out of habit. They were burning the late night ghee tonight, dancing the night away.