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Bangkok [I'd Rather Be]
[I'd Rather Be]
Sitting by a road
In the middle
of nowhere, than here reaching for something,
anything maybe.
Pence posts, tall grass, rural pavement,
the mark of man, but the resoluteness of God
mixed,
there in the wind, in the minuteness
of gravel in pavement.
And here,
the wind brings with it pollution
and pavement can't be seen beneath
forward motion,
busy feet, dirty feet, moving taxis,
evil intentions, trash, and filth
This road is one ventured with
a mute mind,
an anesthetized spirit
money in your pocket,
eyes half-closed
If you were awake,
I would tell you, maybe,
of fence posts
the ones that keep animals in, not out.
And of the wind that blows
raising hair on skin,
And reminds you that
you still belong to it,
You still belong.