“One night in Bangkok
and the world’s your oyster”
but I’ve eaten it   polished
the shell clean with tongue and teeth
then brought the world up again
a leaning heave at 2 am
over a toilet I can only thank
stars is western
or my knees would be telling
a different story

But save that for later
Mom   I’m already missing you
and the cold bite of October
on your birthday   but here
rainy season is nearly over
we’re all set up for a string
of typhoons to dash the cicadas
from the trees

From the twenty-second story
I hear rooster calls in the morning
the boop-boop-boop of the bird
that sounds like a fast game
of Catchphrase at noon
and at night the crash of fireworks
signals the end of Buddhist Lent
I whittle the dark down
to a strip of neon
and two lines of song