The heat of Bangkok, heavy, wet and thick
The shrieks of traffic jolting down below
I wipe my forehead. Having walked too quickly,
I'm drenched in sweat but still have far to go.
The thrumming concrete walkway lets me look
Down from above on jungle, roofs and men.
Those surreptitious pictures that I took
Of market stalls - I've stolen souls again.
Silk tie in hand, the thing I came to buy
The only fruit of this exhausting walk
I pass a begging woman, rush right by.
I always do. It's justified in talks
conducted with my conscience. But I know
I made a choice for cruelty long ago.
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