Poetry from Thailand

Original poetry written in and about rural Thailand.

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Location: Chong Khae, Nakhonsawan, Thailand

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Losing My Son In The Automatic Car Wash

When the track grabbed our front wheels
and the Tempo lurched forward unnaturally
toward the clear plastic sheet, Andy grabbed
the arms of his car/booster seat and looked
straight ahead. “It’s a car wash,” I said, “don’t
be scared,” but already the plastic fingers were
splaying over the windshield revealing the
darkness within.  Then the high pressure water
hit with such force that his head snapped
back and his rubber galoshered legs hyper
extended toward the glove box.  Again,
I tried to calm him, but we were both in
our safety belts and there was no exit.
Next, the soap hit the windshield with
cosmic swirls of galaxies and vague gas clouds.
Under his snow suit hood, I could see his
puppet-like head, look agog from side to side.
I tried to comfort him again as the high speed,
spinning black brushes appeared over the
front of the hood, but when others began eating
their way up the passenger side door, he began
screaming.  Next, the drying strips slapped
us followed by blasts of hot air and small
golden streams of wax but he kept screaming.
This will pass, I thought watching shadowy
figures on the walkway to my left, but it didn’t.

The track delivered us with a clang and a bump
into the high February morning.  I turned right
on West Hollis out toward Pepperell all the
way trying to explain to him what had just
happened – but I knew I was talking to myself.

FG January 20, 2013

All rights reserved by the author Forrest Greenwood.


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