Bazaar

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One hundred sixteen billion, two hundred forty seven million, five hundred twenty-nine thousand,

nine hundred ninety three

My sky is filled with stars which illuminate the vast black cape overhead

I saw you today in an unfamiliar place

A market teeming seething and swirling with colors

Comprised of the many shades and odors of their origins

Flimsy, gauzy banners marked the wares

Like a desperate whore at dawn

I could easily have shouted across above the raspy cries of hawkers

And buyers and hangers-on

But I did not.

You were selling, or wanted to buy, I could not tell

But that inconsequential detail matters not

Luscious and exotic fruits are found

Ripe vegetables, tawdry trinkets, oddities galore

Durable and authentic goods were hard-by the gate

And in short supply, like my currency of the trade

Jostled I was swept along as might the paper slips

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Bazaar - The Courage of Intimacy by Keith Ainsworth                                                                                                                                                                              48