Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Talking Stones



The whores along Pham Ngu Lao bark at me like rabid dogs
Color stars and moon shapped anchors on my forearms
In nail polish
Drop crusty bandaids in their drinks on dares
It's a Thursday and there's a two for one special.



The trees above Thanh Ha Lane are impossible to climb
Crush you like cups of enticing wine
Screaming indignities, pucker up sour lips like flat coca-cola
It's autumn and you are being courted but she kisses like last year.



The lovers around Hoan Kiem Lake huddle in the shaddows
Even their fingernails are turned on
But there is no where to go
Turn up your collar as you pass
Humming strangers don't talk back even under cloak of night.



The boys fishing with bamboo sticks outside Siem Reap chase bicycles on whims
Along the mudd ruts outside their home
Kicking clods, trading belts
He ain't staring you down, he's just squinting in the sunlight.



The stones of Angkor expect the tourists to do tricks
On fallen camellia blossoms we sit in whispers
Stones always ask the same thing
Tell me traveler, tell me because I hear rumors, is it true we can walk on the waves?

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