Bamboo swaying on the balconies.
Beer gardens wilting
Just as fast as they bloomed.
Comes the chorus of bullfrogs practising.
And we're caught singing scales
in the shower again for the
Siamese twins of the Naiads.
Not much in the way of puddle prep.
Umbrellas and sandals were afterthoughts.
It's not even a matter of procrastination.
Some kind of aversion for precautions,
Even last year, when the water in the soi
was up to our waists
we watched for snakes and brandished umbrellas
wading and waiting till the skies turned blue.
And how many times were we soaked in Asoke?
Or drenched like dogs on Soi Sala Daeng?
Stranded for hours on Sukhumvit Road
While the buses slogged their ways
down the old canals
and empty taxis, as rare as dry shoes,
splashed up the sidewalks of your favourite streets.
Every year the faithful pile sandbags
by the docks,
not to mention our gang of sleepy boatmen
across the shallow locks.
Same old tar on the ferry boat.
Same old noose through the same old tarp.
Same smiles looking back from the river.
Topic(s) of this poem: weather
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.