Rickshaw Boy

The man I pulled tonight

carried a load of books.

When I felt him watching

me uphill, I grimaced.

He gave me lunar

cakes the size

of two camel humps.

When I answered him,

I smiled to his face.

He wore the moonlight

in his specs. Pant

seams clean as the embroidery

work of his book covers.

One cannot grow rich

without a bit of cleverness.

Should I have shown

him the secret of my deft

touch? The Circling Moon,

the Graceful Swan? How East

Wind beats West Wind

if other two winds say so?

Snow falls on cedars.