Friday, September 30, 2016
June Calender writes
Early morning, fresh wet air as if the city
After a cleansing shower dries off deodorized.
The sky is as pale as a much worn chambray shirt,
Even asphalt looks scrubbed in this light.
Oriental incense invisible, surrounds a new aluminum kiosk
An imaginary miasma of Dehli reds and purples.
The Indian news seller purifies and blesses
His tiny domain to gain his share
Of the dream of prosperity,
Invoking daily the hopes
That brought him far from home.
I pass by and never stop, never buy,
But breathe the complex scent
And feel my day is blessed by his belief.
My cynicisms curl and crumble like the ash
Of his incense sticks.
Un Puesto da Diariosen B.A. -- Norberto Dorantes