Driving from the Phuket Airport

Notice: Reading the following constitutes accepting the PEULA (Poetic End User License Agreement) that reads in its entirety: “We must forgive one another’s bad poetry.”
While driving from the Phuket airport in Thailand, having not slept in way too long.:

That the dirt is orange
That the hillside retains the shape
    of the shovels that cut into it
The the trees foliate only one branch deep
That the green covers the hills like tastebuds
That the clearings are ringed by trees
    like stayed dancers ready to step forward
That there is color where there oughtn’t be.
Is any of this the difference
that brings the foreign so close?

I’ve seen so little of Thailand so far, but I love it already.

PS: Basically the same presentation at yesterday’s in Beijing, but this time the audience laughed all the way through. Go figure. (No translators this time.)

Categories: Uncategorized dw