colonoscopy returning to an empty apartment

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fireworks
a reveler pisses
into the new year

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Christmas in Bangkok
holiday special on toys
in the new sex shop —
passing by on my way home
my reflection in the glass

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True Adventure

From the balcony of my guesthouse, I watch the sun, about to slide behind a peak, cast its last ray at the mountains across the valley. The wind picks up, and the trees and bamboo begin to whisper. Prayer flags tongue their hopes and pleas into the rising darkness. I don’t know the names of the mountains, the name of the valley. I don’t know the local language except for one word: jule. The driver who picked me up at the airport told me it means hello, goodbye, thank you, okay…. I figured it was the only word I would need and stopped listening.

dusk
a dog in the road
chews on its tail