Lizards and Monks

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Mural on the wall leading to the Chili Bangkok, a hostel I stayed in.


Thai beer sipped overlooking a spoiled river.
That strange notion I have traveled,
that I have been somewhere now,
that I have seen the world a tiny bit.
That I can tell stories featuring exotic words
that will draw wide eyes as if
I had visited the moon.
Scarves, key rings, post cards for sale
if I but turn my head or go a few feet.
The call of tuk tuk drivers looking for fares.
Other tourists with leather skin and silk shirts
drinking cocktails and munching fried shrimp nearby.
Their air of many stamps in a passport
polluting the air
near their sun-fried heads.
Durian, mangoes, dragon fruit offered
along the street leading back to the hostel
where Buddha lounges on the stone wall.
A mural that stretches rather too large and too long
for my camera to obediently capture.
Cats everywhere as I return
to the green-walled room
with the hard bed and the single sheet.
Lizards and monks go about their business.
The city bus rolls on by.
A mini water garden dedicated to the local gods
and I stop to watch the water flow over and over.
Spiders judge me, wonder when I will pass on by.
Backpackers speak of heading on to India
as they march past me
still staring transfixed at water
bubbling slightly over dark stones.


note– written last month or so. The three pictures are all from Bangkok, Thailand. 

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