365. prakorb
brush past the henna-handed
dreadlock-tourist-filled
formica topped tables
& turn left at the end
is Shangri-La
another world
they sit dirty feet away
yet never know my realm
of jasmine flowers
and lush green plants
never see the shrine of
concrete and candle wax
the glass of water, fruit
a garland of marigolds
for Him
–this dusty cafe on a Siam street –
this is heaven.