Thunder and Lightning - Or, Pizza and Tamarind

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  Thunder and Lightning - Or, Pizza and Tamarind

In Sri Lanka

the thunder and lightning

were unexpected guests

in my sleep. 

When I looked out

from the balcony

I saw only moonlight

off the Indian Ocean.

In the dream that followed,

I ordered pizza, plain,

but for some reason

it shimmered

like the most pleasant 

of ghosts
-or like still undwarfed Pluto,
which I couldn't possibly see-

in the moonlight,

perhaps because

an owl rose

from the garden

and alerted

an actual mongoose

with whom I had words.

The following night,

the biryani I ordered

for dinner

housed just a tinge

of tamarind

in the masala,

sweet as rhyme,

sour as envy.

I am ashamed 

to admit

that I gobbled it

and then turned,

stomach still craving,

to lanced pineapple

for dessert.

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