The moon is dark and the stars are few
Still just ahead the kirtan party is coming into view
As people joined in Srila Gurudeva beamed
May this little poem let all hear what I’ve seen
Roses yellow, white and red make the leis
Combine in a most elegant artistic way
With the usual entrance to highway to space closed down Murka and I head for the navapatra. Buying some phalam there is a customer ahead looks back at Murka and his baggy shorts and asks “what will you wear when the temperature hits one hundred next summer?” as Murka laughs the customer is happy “He’s laughing, I thought he might get angry” then he tells Murka “I grew up in Minnesota so I’m different” “well I grew up in the land of high school basketball” the highway is open there and friends are happy to talk From there to the wharf road folding his palms to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa kalrupa takes him to the sandhya greeted by bhakta blade
Argh mates! Om paramahamsa thakura has stoked the fire so high that by mangala arati everyone may have gone to davey jones’ locker. Talking like a pirate he goes to his kutir not to be seen ‘till Sunday.