Chilled distilled life
All of a sudden, for no apparent reason,
I want to be sitting at one of those courts
where Thai people go for beers and snacks.
An occasional foreigner can be spotted there,
brought by his local date, disoriented, out of place,
too dumbfounded to even be amused.
I want to be more bewildered than him,
for I'd go there alone, on my own accord.
I want to be a stuttering weird-worded weirdo,
speak Thai with a waitress
who’s expecting English.
I want to feel self-conscious,
stared at, gossiped about,
at least in the perceptual trap
of my paranoid thoughts.


