Monday, September 23, 2013

Legal tender

I walked across Montgomery and up Utica.  As I turned up Utica, the the light smell of West Indian curry on carried on the breeze.  The Windies patois tongue made me think of uniting the ghetto and the shtetl...with Biscuit.


Woof, woof!

I stopped in to grab a coffee and chatted with my friend the Yemenite store keep.  We spoke of fire worshipers; of those of prayed to the Peacock Angel; of guardian monkeys.

I may be the only one in Brooklyn who can pay for my coffee with a 10-rupee note.  Yes, my coffee cost me a Gandhi ten spot  (about 20cents).  Always legal tender in La Mancha.  But my tales are my currency and my Arabic is my credit.

Under a banyan in the Brooklyn jungle, I weave my tales.

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