Mr Softee

…and some old words to go with a curious picture
…once in Thailand, I visited a Golden Buddhist Stupa, way up on a hill.
to get there I shared a Tuk Tuk (one of the big ones. Jeepney?) with a rowdy bunch of teenage monks,
they were off for rainy weather retreat (a bit like summer camp and National Service, far as I could work out).
Shaven haired, a uniform of saffron robes. mucking about, illicit sneaky smoking,
else headphones on, singing along with their walkmans.

A tranquil temple, amidst the fluttering pennants,
a few wild monkeys flinging themselves about.
A giant, languid reclining Buddha, eyes closed in snooze bliss.
Big spinning prayer wheels. Thanka devotional paintings.
Rows and rows of lotus positioned deities, many under dust covers, like shrink wrapped production line Buddhas.
A view out across the jungle, vista of steam heat and trees…

Sunset, the place shutting up for the day, on my way out, a young ice cream seller called me over.
He was on a bike with a big box of lollies balanced on the front pannier, lawks knows how he pedalled up that hill!
Off home, he gestured I should hop up in front of him.
away we wobbled, free wheelin’, speedy whooshin’ turn and turn about the bends,
the sticky fug of tropics, cooled by the breeze of our own passing. yippee! (that and my ice cream numbed bum! the goose that laid the golden egg. Fab)

Spiralling, helter skelter, giddy reel, down and round, round and down. past the trees.

When we got down i bought an ice cream

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