siem reap wawn*
— adam aitken
Traffic noise – there isn’t much
the road’s a washed out laterite
and the smell is fish – the drying kind.
but the moto driver’s hungover head.
Light breaks through – clean white clouds
and the girls are busy sweeping.
The foreigners French and nervous
as children and sparrows peck at monuments.
TV going on and off
in a country whose past
outrates its future.
I sip beer with the Russians
the rodents have all been eaten.
And Buddha, hung with fairy lights
withdraws some cash from an ATM.
* This is a reworking of Michelle Cahill’s ‘Bangkok Dawn’. (–Adam Aitken)