Curry-Infused Dreams

Curry-Infused Dreams of Freedom or A Backyard for my Dog to Piss
By Brandon Follett
Indian Curry Pot Restaurant & Guesthouse
I wouldn’t want to stay at a place called the Curry Pot,
even for the price of $3 a night.
I imagine a hammock strung above a steaming pot,
with curry smells rising up in dreamlike wisps of spiciness,
curling through the air, drifting below my nostrils as I try to sleep,
infusing my dreams with temples, rats and brightly-colored saris.
Anyway, I’m not looking for cheap accommodation.
I’m looking for a good omelet.
Usually I order curry at Indian restaurants,
This time I try an omelet
with a baguette and fresh fruit on the side.
I sit at one of the few tables,
notice an adorable little girl with big brown eyes
milling about between the tables
but my attention is drawn to the sea turtles on TV.
Mid-omelet,
not expecting a baby to be sleeping in a restaurant,
I am surprised to hear
a whimper from the corner.
A woman immediately appears from the kitchen
to breastfeed the baby
who had been nestled quietly in a bed behind the counter
the whole time.
As I’m swallowing the last bite of banana,
I meet the owner, a happy man
who enjoys chatting with his customers.
He pulls a chair up to my table,
talks about his native land of Pakistan,
the restrictions,
strict Muslim codes
compared to here in Cambodia.
He takes customer service to an unfamiliar and appealing level
of intimacy and entertainment.
It’s as though he’s chatting with a friend in his living room.
Then I realize that’s exactly what’s happening.
I’m the friend who has entered his home to enjoy a meal.
Here in Cambodia,
he’s allowed a family,
a business on his own terms,
freedom to be a homeowner and entrepreneur.
Selling curry, omelets and cheap accommodation from his living room.
I’m from Boise, Idaho
where people place a different value on property.
Yes, a person can own a piece of land.
On that land
they build or buy a box
to store possessions.
The backyard
simply a place for the dog to piss.
Beautify the front yard,
motivated by a Better Homes and Garden look.
A fancy exterior will increase property value.
Indian Curry Pots
do not exist
in Boise, Idaho.
The only type of acceptable business
in suburbia:
a Garage Sale.
Make way for new possessions!
As I get up to leave, I realize
the 5-year-old girl is his daughter.
She comes over to sit in his lap,
wants to know if I can
recite the ABC’s.
America, Better Change.

0 thoughts on “Curry-Infused Dreams

  1. Modern-day Candide/Techno-rocker Tocqueville strikes again! ..Like an asian ‘Gulliver’s Travels’ [Jonathan] swift-kicking notions up my pampered spoiled American ass! [that’s a good thing, though a bit painful]. “Curry-Infused Dreams of Freedom or A Backyard for my Dog to Piss”..it’s a pleasure to read a fellow bastard son of Ogden Nash (famous for his use of ‘or’ in titles)…and other liberties of language and wit in poetry.
    I enjoyed reading the comparison/contrast of East vs. West…drove home by that crecendo ‘ABC’s’ ending: A-merica B-etter C-hange!
    So much of America is just ‘business as usual’/non-personal/apathetic/get-out-of-my-face…
    We used to have a litte Paki-restaurant in the small tx. town i live in called ‘the Saffron Grill’…man i miss their chiken curry and friendliness. They closed down, changed management, and the place was renamed ‘Texas Burger’ (not to be confused with the Koffee Kup Kafe…not-so-secret meeting place of area KKK enthusiasts].
    Staying at ‘The Curry Pot Guesthouse’ might be like eating at ‘La Rattatoille Restaurante’, but hell, $3 bucks!? Man! I’ll take room 1408 please! Eating there sounds even better…social club, school-room, eatery, la leche league all rolled into one!
    Very picturesque! 2nd stanza truly stood out: “…curry smells rising up in dreamlike wisps of spiciness, curling through the air, drifting below my nostrils as I try to sleep, infusing my dreams with temples, rats and brightly-colored saris.”
    Thank you. I look forward to reading more!

  2. …and yet America thinks its the only place anyone would want to be -or is it really “simply a place for the dog to piss”? Just not on my property, dammit.
    nice juxtaposition of cultural values here, and very well written too.

Leave a Reply