Maradana Junction AM

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What they call koha is on the tree.
Makes a fairly sweet, unfamiliar noise
Like James Joyce

And this tree is in
The Maradana Police Station.
People look. They cannot see. Then they look

At me.

144, 171, 176 buses come, halt, shout,
They pass. I am waiting for 176 bus. At last
You come, strutting, as if the world is watching

The world watches you pass. Conch shells blast,
Coconuts split. Bus comes a roaring.
I watch. This is it.

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