Monks laugh
And drink Pepsi
Under tarps in markets
Where the air is thick and warm
Wafting scents of spices and fish
Coking sausages
And pungent durian
Eyes adjust from glaring sun
To shadowy passages
Between stalls
In my dreams
I weave my way
Through colourful crowds
In loose clothing
Past jungles of ferns and orchids
And crates of fresh yellow mangoes
Spiky rambutans
Plump dragon fruit
Chasing a woman on a mission
For fried potatoes and plantains
The monks in burnt orange
Have nowhere to go
Content drinking syrupy liquid
Relaxing in the afternoon heat
Present and aware
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