Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Sunday, December 16, 2012

In the Tom Jones

In the Tom Jones Automat of Porn
there is a grid of post office boxes
with little windows to show you
what’s on offer.  There are tons of
hot dogs in buns and cream-filled
twinkies, and all sorts of pumpernickel 
or rye sandwiches filled with holy
guacamole (evidently the Pope’s been
here or is coming in he near future).
And Tacos!  I’ve never seen so many,
and, of course, there are just about a
million beers, beers of every kind.

I sit at a table.  It’s raining outside
and I see my old reflection in the glass;
I feel the November in my soul and
want to go and knock some hats off.
Maybe I’ll make an appointment at
The Moby Dick clinic down on
Broadway and Sycamore.  I’ve heard 
they have a cure for this abiding
sense of self-importance that’s got
me so low down.  Dunno, dunno.

FG Saturday, December 16, 2012

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.


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