Monday, April 13, 2015

All on a Bali Morning

A spider thread moves slowly past my gaze
the world is wreathed in silken drift.
Doves call three times in morning praise
and Chanticleer proclaims his watch.

Yesterday Eloise,
a proud four fingers, danced upon an ant
a large tractor ant with grasshopper legs
Forged in antiquity, a space age design
and it retaliated and seized her
skin in its mandibles. A shriek, and sobs
in mother's arms, and I located the ant
damaged but operational, moving,
and I lifted it with a leaf and placed
it in greenery. 'How karmic' said Cara.

This morning

we found a column of ants
close to where I had placed the injured beastie.
They were marching into the bedroom for munchies
so Denise instinctively grabbed the Baygon.
Pressed the button.
Nuked the little buggers.

Afterwards we mentioned the ant invasion
to our local manager who suggested drawing
a line at the threshold, a sort of magical deterr-ant.

The manager, Made, gave us a durian.
Do you know the durian? It is a
heavy armour plated thorny husk,
an ancient weapon, which encases
the King of Fruits. It effuses humus
or mouldy Camembert, and some say -
so glibly I think - sewage or a rank
damp trainer. You might say the heaviest
aroma of sweet decaying strawberry.
Yes, earthy, primal, insistent
it evacuates lifts, hotels, hospitals and wives.

The pods await resplendent in regal
butter beds
and their flavour yes, is almost
indescribable:
a hint of spring onion and almond perhaps
the texture silky soft, succulent,
richly creamily custardly smooth;
the omnipotence unassailable.

Our neighbour Jim from San Fran - on the Bay
landed in hospital today – Honey where you been?
You really must get out more! – The dengue has him by the
melodramas – Babe, this rash ain't no match for my glamorama!

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