Thailand

Smells like
campfire and jasmine
car exhaust and laundry soap
like searing meat and rainstorms
eucalyptus and rotting vegetation
It smells like a breeze wafting over an open field
and stale lemon water

Tastes like
overripe mangoes and pineapples and bananas
like ice cream and waffles and warm water
fruit mentos and lemon oreos
ovaltine and coconut yogurt
It tastes like fried chicken and sticky rice, but also
bamboo shoots and curry and fish oil


Looks like
God's country
glittering temples and gray storm clouds

it has something to hide
like a scene from a movie
second-hand clothes and a thousand smiles
It looks like questionable meat and a sea of dark hair
and blue and orange sunsets behind acres of green


Sounds like
bad English
genuine laughter and quiet singing
the whir of a fan and the rumble of a motorcycle
It sounds like Thai television drama
and birds and bugs and barking dogs
like the same three cell-phone ring tones, over and over,
drums in the distance, persistent vendors and rain hitting the ground


Feels like
an eternal sauna
a dream and a promise
greasy lips, a stinging tongue and itchy skin
like a conversation with myself,
and an accident waiting to happen
loose clothes, no make-up and a pony-tail
the wind on my face and the sun at my back
It feels like home