Pejah gesang nderek sinuhun

At the grounds of the old palace

bare-footed by order of the guards

old and wrinkled like the trunks of sawo trees.

Cold black sand

imported two hundred years ago from 60 miles west

the old burnt palace

better luck next time.

His heels pressed hard on the sand.

The sand refused to give in.

A dark pendopo

No Visitor Past This Point

out of respect

for the watermarked angels and goddesses.

An old woman

cleavage brown as chestnut

a brazier of glowing charcoal raised in her right hand

The most normal thing to do in the world.

Bali.

Early morning.

Kuta.

Pretty shop attendants in kebaya

sexier with the thin

brief obi on their waist

An afterthought.

A sacrifice to the gods

holy water on tips of bamboo brushes

A sembah with eyes closed

He would believe in anything.

This is all just so much prettier.

I want to start my day everyday like this.

She

me

those pretty Balinese girls

this stupid kraton

that megalopolitan I wanted so much to call home

everything

is so random

everything is related

nothing is true.

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