Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Rebuilding Goffstown

Take you average road side stand
that pops up in the fall, you know
the one with wide ascending stairs
of pumpkins or baskets of apples,
and cut it off just below the hips
so it goes whomp and lands almost
flat on the ground.


Now people-size it, paint it in
an enamel green and cover
the front with some chicken wire.
Set the whole she-bang down
on a July Sunday afternoon behind
home plate.


Now populate the stairs with old men
smoking Pall Malls or stumpy looking
cigars, with wives playing cards on top
of metal, Coleman coolers, with kids
clambering up and hopping down on
the all but empty away team side, with
teenage girls in clutches and cliques
of threes or fours, but never altogether,
and with slightly older boys sitting on the
railing under the corrugated tin roof
to catch the breeze beyond the topmost
stair.


Now put an out door faucet turned up
by the lockable storage room underneath
the stairs and let it bubble water until the
gravel ground turns to a rich dun color.

Now import some old cars from Cuba
and park them nose-in down both
foul lines - American, of course,
mostly sedans, some pick ‘em ups
and maybe even a convertible or two.

Now get some cloth ball caps and
wool uniforms with piping down
the legs and felt letters across the chest
and outfit a town team.

Now you have the Goffstown Ghosts,
a name my father said was picked
not because our ball team rose from
the dead in the late innings, but
because you couldn’t get a TV
picture in town without a ghost-like image.

Now yell, “Play ball!” and for all
you know, Goffstown would come
alive, again.


For all you know.

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood,

FG 21 June 2011

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