gian can’t dance,

the rickshaw carrier who’s seen no other day or night
runs around the city for his children.
the camel tour guide, who leads tourists to adventures,
knows exactly where he is in every desert.
the souvenir vendor announces his  never changing pitches
his ever changing prices before dust settles –
a rickshaw speeds past. dust turns into clouds;
clouds upon clouds of clay-coloured sand,
settling and drifting, settling and drfting, repeating
chapters of some journey in some dusty old book:
the souvenir vendor who proposed to his wife
in front of the taj mahal.
the camel tour guide who named his child after the sun.
the rickshaw carrier who runs in circles
in a romantic place like india.