Bangkok

Sometimes it is gnarled and absent and full of holes
Other times it gleams like teeth, like
new parts.
Sometimes the veins of its momentum burst open,
spilling salty bits of plans and need
Other times it stands still
simmering in its denied frustration, in its
impossible peace
chunky, clotted, whole.
Sometimes it is a hollow chasm
speckled with nodules and bony parts
shivering in the artificial air
freezing lungs, forgetting breath
Other times it holds you in a grip without fingers
as it exhales rank, wet heat into the
exclamation points of your nostrils.
Sometimes it is abundant and glittery and
pregnant with paper and want
and everything, everything is just RIGHT THERE
and yes, I'll take it--ow,ow,ow*
and a constant burp boils in its belly
Other times starvation's possessed suitors
pull blankets of tin and pavement and memory
over themselves
shuddering in their lust
collecting liquid pools as altars.
Sometimes it is children and knees running
and shrieking and hands folded please
and b...b...b...ball
Other times it is high heels and pearls
and tiny skirts, hips
walking without tripping
giggling without sincerity
silk that billows like filthy light
a face like an angel's wing
This place, this place, this
Mecca for the Homeless
drifting, neon, liquid grasp
Searching, searching, searching
LOST.
And then, one breath, one blink, one
pulsating snap in time later,
HOME.
Sometimes plastic
Sometimes caked in a thick reality
A heavily lined palm
Holding, releasing, slapping, caressing.
Relentless.

*This is the Thai word for WANT.