He redefines cool, it’s his natural state
From the peacock’s school dance is his every gait
He’s never a let down even if he comes fashionably late
Saint Patrick’s day or Easter he’ll increase his devotees heart rate
Leis of petals and whole roses for the kali yuga pavana sasadhara
The gecko and I meet at the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and bow in accordance with SGM’s instruction. Hammering through the southland to the snob hill rattling into the village waking the tourists who’ve come out for a seaside weekend hoping to look at the waves and say “hey dude! Let’s party!” pointing to the hook around between the lakes to the harbor where the boats are out in the sun. The natasala is ready for the first show but the gecko and I spin on to the leaping monque on the way to the stars. Back around the traders around the corner to the reviewing stand at the triangle we take leave and the gecko returns to his shop and I for the sandhya. I pass the whalers and the clank of the aluminum bat field. At the campa hatti I turn to the hospital car park through the park to the hidden street that rejoins the main street. Past the market of los pugglos once again a second trip through the southland back onto the long and winding road. The ratha-bhojana-vrksa sees my folded palms and smiles while the kalarupa and I go side by side. I speak of the sticker I saw that says “I never thought I’d miss Nixon.”
A long rest leads to a late night in their deep within the far off jungle nightdress. White, rusty red and pale green make it quite a show from the Nrsimha Caturdasi some years ago. They engage in their pastimes with elegance and happiness.