my first taxi ride in India
a sleek Cuban style vintage
upbeat experimental
bollywood sounds; loud
alas – no kitch demi gods
protection from the dash
(thou Gannesh is stuck to the windscreen)
it’s night time, I want to see
what I am doing. I am being driven
in the middle of the road
with the lights off – is this a game?
and then appears
a full beam stand-off
an on-coming headlight
starts the dance
flick dip flick dip
I am material, not ethereal
please don’t confuse the two
only one Holy Jesus passes
my lips – I’ve decided
blaspheming is redundant
in a country of gods
on every dashboard (except mine)
it is simply me calling to my childhood
God, albeit, in a state of alarm
I think I have the horn section
figured out now
a toot does not forewarn
warning or demands
for right of passage, not really
it is an ‘as-you-were’
it’s all pretty much
asymmetrical chaos
playing in the gaps of
transient light and sound
I decide from here on in
I have no cares
I let go of my foot on the floor
stamping into that imaginary break
there are too many details
that make up India
for me to be in control
this trip is starting out in deep surrender
