I double dog dare ya

I double dog dare ya
to repeat
the story
you heard
in 3 Trees

the shop
of Indian incense
and beeswax crayons from Germany

perhaps a source
for Waldorf
or Montessori
Nepali filigree

or Balinese woven
silver and semi-precious gems

cut loose dresses
and butterfly pants

from Indonesia
or somewhere
similarly
hot and breezy
and yoga cushions
maybe made locally

and unmentionable remarks
harder to tell
than listen to

I think it was a tall
woman
of subcontinent ancestry
who was trying on bras
and dresses
and saying she was
generally pleased
at the selection
and the clerk
who replied
yeah
who knew
Asian women have boobs and height
and take up space
and commisserated
with her customer
who mentioned
she didn't think men
looked for a mirror
to see how their bum looks
before deciding
and buying down the risk
she knowingly showed
to me

I was there
for the sale
half price and no tax
the gift they give
3 times a year
to generate some cash
and clear old stock
and buy
on the shoulder
for the coming season
with all
of its news and weathers
a Sunday edition

grubby
with toast and jam hands
dandruff and dirty underwear

still
in that jumble
of misshapen pearls

apophyllite after emerald
aping ethereal greens
like promises
that are no bargain to keep

somewhere
in the impossible scents
of that bazaar
my nose detected
the faint whiff
of bristlecone pine

that ages but does not decline
lays dormant but does not die
and thrives
like deep sea
tube worms

even deprived
of oxygen
breathing
in thin altitudes
slightly anaerobic

maybe I was not meant
to hear
the comment about
men
not having
to check the look
of their cheeks
in the glass
but the clerk smiled
when I skinned my lips back

to stop an emerging grin
and said
we're all a little weird
not different
mind
but weird
which reminded her
it was time for a smoke
and a coffee
and what was left
of a biscuit
she was trying
to make last
savouring the taste
without
packing on the beef

but we weren't talking
about sacred cows
or water buffalo
only carnelian
king rings

and Buddhas and Guanyins

and the endless ways

to steal a moment

from the restless gods

in some opinion evacuated

mindfulness

taken

from all

that is moping

quotidien

and returned

to the gentleness

of marigold petals

and gratuitous acts

of compassion

and unclipped kindness

and dewy droplets

from

hidden streams
winding their way
blindly
from distant
but
nevertheless
well trodden times
to fulsome wells

and foot baths

and rice fields

and mass Ganges baths