Eva Jackson: 0060

Ride from Pidurangala

Vehicles in the dark, in the parkland
At roadside, lights blazing, lines of people
Homes away from home, stopping at Buddhas
Behind glass like gracious Sleeping Beauty
To bless them at festival.
Rice paddy sits still on its own, in the nearly dark
You can imagine sinking your feet into it while the
Party continues and the white flowers cluster in the bush.
We run along the train track in the night.
The balla (dog) is always nursing itself and sensitive to love.
It will curl in the middle of the dirt road, black, or growl
With friends at a wandura (monkey) at an ancient site.
Some of the dogs have little nips taken out of their backs
In a fight with another one. They protect their friends and cultivate their enemies.
The bells are ringing – it is a train.
A man standing in the dark leaning to one side looks like a clenched fist
His shirt stripes are veins and wrist, his shoulders knuckles.