Saturday, February 4, 2012


the hare krishnas keep a greenhouse near the road
it glows like a florescent lozenge at night
a spaceship filled with seedlings for the immense garden
that stretches it’s way to the temple
whose yellow paint is peeling away from the geodesic shrine
i don’t know why they worship in there anymore
when it’s perfectly obvious where the deity really is
he moved out there as soon as they turned on the grow lights
and he sits throughout the night meditating and levitating
smiling his beatific smile at the cars that roll by
he watches his followers file to the temple before sun up
and while they light the incense and lay their silken handbags down
the deity tastes green shoots and listens to the automatic waterer
he waits patiently for them to discover he’s no longer where they think he is
under that musty crumbling dome
the late afternoon sun sinks with the arrival of a pale girl
swathed in heavy saris damp with winter rain
she brushes past the deity and checks the progress of young radishes
the rain begins to fall heavier on the little glass ship in the garden
and the girl is overwhelmed with happiness

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