Skip to main content


I’m drinking on the terrace of a hotel in Bangkok.
Across the street, six girls are lounging, laughing in a flock,
sure to command attention and prepared to advertise.
Beyond my strength, the self-denial to avert the eyes
and so, in those rare moments when no traffic’s in the way,
I gaze in admiration at the talent on display.
Sweet birds of youth, this flirting hour the street is your domain;
don’t mind an old spectator who’s got beauty on the brain.

Audio file

Listen to this poem — read by the author