fingertip sun at sideshow stalls
at coconut fur that hides behind
coloured shades that blind your eyes
every child's mother holds an ice-cream cone
perceived unknown by an eye that peers
from a hole in the tent where no one goes
a figure sitting cross-legged on the floor
he's clogged and clothed in saffron robes
his beads are all he owns
someone must have said let's slow him down"