Bliss

On one of those market streets
Like tiny rivulets
Accommodating two pairs of feet
And nothing more
Just uncomfortable space
Between civilisation on either side
Papaya bowls and gold are sold
And in a laundry shop doorstep
The fore-noon of a hot day
A little child plays
With a displaced papaya peel
Slithering here to and there
Unaware
Without prejudice or pride
Privilege or poverty
Or the need to say
"Yeah yeah yeah" with a nod
When asked if she is fine
The adjectives and pronouns
That come simply with her being
Unmoved
By the toiling black spider
On the legs of the fruit cart
Overcome with endless fascination
For the glistening blanket
In the making