bangkok

bangkok

flowers, dried fish, wet streets, an atmosphere lightly steamed

where jungle threads through mold-blackened concrete

and gilded temples. the alleys, the shine and sheen of modernity,

a green eruption in the fertile crumble of the city.

sunrise, seven stories above the river

watching from the balcony as gigantic rice barges

strung end to end slowly chug downstream.

i see a man tossing bread into the milky water and it boils

with frenzied fish. water taxis, jammed with yellow-shirted commuters

zig zag down the river and pass under the bridge

where a man leapt to his death yesterday afternoon.

everywhere there are things, things devoted to spirit

rendered in silk or gold or weathered stone

a world made by hand where wreaths of flowers dangle

from the rear view mirrors of groaning busses

a world of care and courtesy and smiles

we climbed the stairway to the sky train

is that the scent of belgian waffles? yes, interesting.

walkways sprout from the elevated stations

directly into the downtown shopping towers

with all the familiar international brands

shrines and monuments crouch beneath their gleaming facades

the sidewalks full of vendors selling bags of watermelon,

pastries corn and coconuts, many many varieties

of meat on a stick and deep fried things i can't identify

watches, t-shirts, sundries, barkers hawking sex shows,

tiny motorcycle repair shops, to service the hundred thousand

scooters winding through the gridlocked fleets of candy-colored taxis

and smoking busses.

some less familiar names on store front windows:

a shop called Mr Towel and one that claims:

pixels made fresh daily.  and this:

experimental partners scientific test wedding dresses.

ok, i'm charmed, i'm fascinated

i'm comfortable, what's the word for that?

sabai, sabai. yes, that's it.