I sleep in the arms of Brahma, <br />plastic red sunglasses and white <br />American teeth that fail to bring <br />good luck, <br /> <br />my rinsed long hair <br />drying uncombed on the air. <br /> <br />I imagine myself perfumed <br />with marine minerals; a garland <br />like a groom, but your eyes close, <br />your pedi-cab disappears into India. <br /> <br />My night flight passes over Mumbai, <br />the downtown filled with glorious light <br />as though the entire city sleeps <br />with the lights on.<br /><br />Bernard Henrie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/speaking-sanskrit-to-myself/
