Bazaar street

Bazaar Street

Slurry sultriness
Gleaming wet
Pavements draped with
Goods.

Slinky belts and unabashed bags
Smattering colours
Hoodies and tee shirts
Jackets and scarves
Goodies galore
And glowering bros
Towering over browsers
Survey the potential purveyors
Like unshaven predators
Eyes sparkling at possible kills

The flower seller's nose stud
Blossoming possibilities
Boadacious blood hibiscus,
Virginal jasmine and chrysanthemum
Or passionate Marigolds.

The strident cries of women hawking
Fare
And the repressed boom boxes of men
Growling,
"Sister, mother, come here!"

A few packing boxes of soft drinks spill over from the sweet shop into the road
A red faced man balances a look sides
Crate on his head.

Cookies crazily jog in motion to his hair
I wait for them to fall

Never happens.

Bazaar street

Bizarre beautiful adventure
Smiling with smelly dentures
And demure allure.

I pass over the soiled gutters the garbage and
breath daintily the faintly foul air.

Not for faint souls
But brave heart buyer
Of bacchanalia.

Bazaar street all smarmy and dressed-up
For Diwali.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017