Liquid waves of concrete heat
stop solar plexus high –
knowing knees, callused feet
keep rhythm as battered wheels
grind gravel and gritted teeth.
Bent and thinned, equinely poised,
the rickshaw stammers empty
with an invisible foreign weight –
strong tightened sun soaked slits
like greedy huckster eyes,
dart fiercely through chaotic void
in quest of next pedestrian fares.
Far into the cool damp night
the journey never ceases,
speaking to the street –
the constant dream is he as seated,
the jitney pulls itself,
the pilgrimage of every tourist’s night
illuminates, becomes his own.