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
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.