I come a fortnight after the fire,
market building razed at night:
food vendors pack the square below
the blackened, gutted pasar,
air thick with ripe fruit aroma,
dried fish, spices, an acrid overlay.
I navigate poorly - not in need of food,
tidak terima kasih, black puddles underfoot -
until a woman guides me underground
to carpark basement and textile traders
where for 150,000 rupiah
I buy three red fans with golden fringes.