




It’s syncretic, it’s pretty, it’s callow. I don’t see Jesus and Mary lounging among the loofahs, I don’t see Moses parting the Listerine. But you can buy ‘spicebodhi,’ capsaicin enlightenment in a bar. Symbols my parents revere become interior design props. Mild, tolerant, ‘cardamom-scented’ Hinduism and Buddhism are gussied up and vended. We gave you Manhattan, you give us beads.
That’s the way you do it
Money from religion
and your chicks for free
We gotta install Krishna statues
Custom Lakshmi deliveri-i-ies
We gotta move these silken throw pillows
We gotta move these color glass beads
Ironically, I don’t think my parents would take it amiss. It would remind them of home.























































