A Love Letter to Thailand

Your head is nestled into my shoulder
or perhaps my head rests on your breast
I can feel your softness and warmth
as our fingers idly play and tease.

Our legs casually stretch towards the sunset
as the waves slap softly at the seawall
Occasionally a tourist walks beneath us
smiling quietly as they notice our dangling legs.

We speak little, and move less
engulfed by the heat of the early evening
Dragonflies and swallows fly lazy circles about us
hunting mosquitos and singing to the dying sun.

Soon it will be dark, the mosquitos fled
even the faint shrieks of the bats will be gone
We will peel our bodies apart, shake off our torpor
and leave to find food, to talk and laugh among friends.

Tomorrow brings another day
but for now, we want for nothing.

It's a Complicated Relationship

Our hubris has been believing that when the aliens come that they will be walking, talking creatures which we can comprehend. The reality is that the aliens discovered and exploited us millennia ago. So long ago that all we have left of the time before, is the whispers of folk tale and legend.

They descended upon us and traded directly with our subconscious. In exchange for a home, they offered soma. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad deal, reality was terrifying to our incipient human consciousness. Their offer of absolution in exchange for what we didn't yet understand, was gratefully accepted.

Yet some understood. As they watched their brothers and sisters fall under the spell, they understood the nature of the bargain that was struck. For now, within each of us, there is a voice crying to be fed. A voice that can be subdued but not silenced. A voice whose desire must be reckoned with each and every day.

May the Night Be Kind

“it's my birthday” she said,
sodden eyes scanning the street

the older man next to her,
with an unhealed scar on his chin
showed me he was waiting
for her caution to wane

i let her use my phone
gave her a hug and a kiss
asked “you okay?”, already
knowing that she wasn't

getting on the bus home
i changed my mind
turned around, looking
she was nowhere to be found

may the night be kind

Monkey Seeks Truth

Monkey fears truth,
so he hides in his bed.
Monkey seeks truth,
but goes surfing instead.
Monkey finds truth,
when he's not in his head.

A Caterpillar Crisis

Seven days ago he accidentally squished a caterpillar while pulling out a chair to sit down. Thousands of small grey hairs were embedded into the pads of his fingers.

Five days ago his fingers were covered in tiny blisters, each one centred precisely over the entry point of a hair.

Three days ago the blisters started coagulating, raising and fusing together into a single textured blister.

Two days ago he noticed that while swimming he could feel something moving inside the blister.

Tomorrow he will feel something circling slowly. Something exploring the confines of the blister, looking an escape.

In Stillness …

Bending into Padahastasana, the energy courses through my legs. In sympathetic unison the crickets count the seconds away.

Listening to the drone of my teachers voice, I feel a gecko scurry over my toes to hunt for moths in the glare of the lights.

Looking up from my book, I see ochre tinged cliffs melting into the jungle below. Fork-tailed swallows flit through the skies chasing insects and cuddle on the roof, sharing chirps of intimacy.

Drifting in the pool, I strain to float effortlessly. Above me, in a haze of yellow and black butterflies, swarms of red dragonflies zigzag across the water.

Playing on the beach, we are joined by two young children. They howl in Thai as we skim a frisbee over their heads and laugh with unspoken pride when they pry the disk from the sky.

Hanging out in an empty pub, we make aimless conversation with the owner. As we laugh and talk a party slowly forms around us, John and Boi on the guitar, Kris and I singing.

Struggling to shape my thoughts into words, I'm approached by a young Indian boy who stares longingly at my computer. To his astonishment I don't have any games installed, instead we entertain ourselves by taking silly pictures while his father looks on and laughs.

Watching children play in the distance with a broken surfboard in the sea. Skimming it across the wash they shriek with laughter each time one of them gets catapulted into the air by an incoming wave.

Sitting, facing north, I close my eyes. I can hear the wind in the trees and feel the beat of my heart as I begin to count my breath.

2014 by adam shand. sharing is an act of love, please share.