Guessing distinctly
How many pieces in
Srimati Gandharvika’s skirt today
Then at mangal arati
How many Tiny flowers in her hair?
Guru and Gauranga are our saviors
They plant the seed in our heart
Of krsna bhakti
Conjecturing out loud
Will it be hot today?
As OPT Bhakta Blade dresses the thakuras
I’m seeing the sash
Around the waist of Mahaprabhu
I see his painted lei
On his chest
And I shake my head
Real leis of roses and leaves
and it’s only the service connection
that makes us who we are
hammering to the thoroughfare of space
taking with friends trying to pull me from the race
an electric bent pedaler goes by
with a wind sock on the fly
asks himself “What’s the deal?”
“Murkha and friend are still on my wheel”
he turns at the pitch to stay out of reach
while Murkha and I go on to the beach
the fog rolls in on it’s famous cat feet
Between the lakes the geese chase Murkha and me
the Natasala is quiet before the next show
I get off at the shop but Murkha has to go
Through the treacherous triangle
Over the first highway and that whole wrangle
It’s drive time traffic tangled in knots
Bowing to the RBV thankful he didn’t get caught
The kalarupa harks back to Looney juney
And at the end of the trail he’s greeted by Mahamuni
For their dancing tonight
Pralhad-a-dad suits them right
They’ll be swirling and laughing under the waxing moon’s light