Yard Sale of Thoughts

The rickshaw driver

takes his morning nap:

bare feet in air and tilted cap. 

In the drama, he pedals fast:

mind a well-trod city map.

Strains and rains no more, 

his stamina outlasts.

And at the end 

of faithful pedaling,

the treasures of his nation

with words well-varnished,

he awaits a grin that’s genuine, 

and final tip that’s fat.

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