Monday is red and Friday is purple
Today they have Monday’s red
but they’ve a little Friday in mind
It peaks through in Mahaprabhu’s dhoti, Giridhari’s chodder and Gandharvika’s skirt
The leis of roses both petal and whole sized like the necklaces they won’t stop the free flowing pastimes.
Off to see Garuda bowing to the tree along the way to “downtown” there is a flower shop where one of the folks stands looking. The whalers are detailing cars as I go by and trainers are out in their colorful windbreakers and booties over their shoes. At the post office the way is unusually clear and the triangle is not trying to consume me as I try with all the stealth at my command to get through. Over the Saint Dagwood and into the heart of downtown where the sentence fragments congregate just waiting to be considered for revision. The sloka slinger in training once told me of a man there dressed in pink complete with parasol who slowly walks up and down the street all day. ‘Till today I hadn’t seen him but he is outside of the shop where I meet Garuda. On the way back for the vaikalika the gecko calls out “right on”. Next the fruit market calls out and I respond. Under the lights now Mahamuni passes me on his way to meet with one of the folks at his business. Circling the trader I return for the sandhya after folding my palms as the tree comes into view.
They’ve got many names for the holy places in India, the Deity outfits have names too they call east Bengal the Radhadesa, call this one baby blue. A foggy evening a little chill and a little damp but still and all Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari go on enjoying like anything and dancing all night long.