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 |   Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
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Enga mellom Fjella  Sentinel Marked as if you own me I bow before the Bitterroots and just like you my rocky soil, my withered grass lays prey to the empty sky. © Kåre Enga 2007 "Sentinel"   Reader's Choice of Poems: "'heart's home'" "In Lagada, la vita" "Waterlily" "Boise City" "Plain cover jacket" Reader's Choice of blog entries from my old blog "L'aura del Campo" :"Death of Jeannie New Moon" "Winter: 18 Mas'il (December 29)" "When is it proper to tell someone you love them?" "Half-naked dreams? 'Getting the stain out of genes!" "Guitarman, a gift for Gary. Aaron Marable's art." FACES     PLACES            Kåre  Enga~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop The Fish |
| Pratch sat where the sea spray couldn't reach him, waiting for the sun to set. I watched as a VW beach buggy picked him up. Red, just like his shorts. There was nothing to do but follow. Pattaya isn't big like Bangkok. He was headed towards Si Racha, a place I knew well. He seemed to be in a hurry as if his life depended on it. It did. Life on the beach can be a beach... if you know what I mean. Me? I was his 'guardian angel'.  That's not what I had in mind when I first met him over a plate of succulent slipper lobsters last week. I was more interested in eating him than slurping the garlic sauce. So much good food in Thailand. The buggy wasn't hard to spot. But as they got out it looked like they were more than just talking. Yeah, I caught up to him just in time to stop him from selling the only thing he had to offer, himself. I scared the eager customer off. He wasn't pleased. He needed the baht. I bugged him about that. We walked back down the ally in search of a quiet spot. I spoke softly about how salt rusts out iron wheels like on that beach buggy, how he wouldn't always be fresh-faced and 'hot', how if he didn't want me to bug him he'd have to agree to be mine on the spot. His smile was wider than the alley. I know my street food... I only buy where there's a long line of satisfied customers. And I like my meal fresh and hot. |
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