The Malabar Coast

I miss the mornings in Cochin
when rising early
as the moon set
between the palms
I would smoke cigarettes
and drink chai
on a rickety balcony
above a waking street
listening to the traders
shout to one another
in Malayalam
as they opened their stalls
the smell of cooking
floating in the still air
as women prepared
iddly and kanji and dosas
while the call to prayer
drifted across the steaming landscape
and just for a moment
I wished that I too
were one of the faithful.