Fluid Ripples

calmly sifting
through ideas, plans
minnows drift across my skin
settle on a crease
for a short moment
I begin to sink
immersed in smooth notions
slight kicks disturb the peace
bring air to my lungs
crack the lid
additional comparisons form

Khmer time slips unnoticed
as only a leaf floating down
causing slight ripples
no drastic changes on the surface
tradition goes as before
the depths conceal secret pasts
no need to plunge any further
simply continue living
with a few advances

Western time is meticulously kept
quickly passing one deadline
simultaneously creating another
as if trying to skip a rock
while scanning the beach again
already having pocketed two more
yet this new one might be better
the first is simply tossed in
crashing through layers of algae
confusing the entire ecosystem
but holding the belief
it will all settle better in the end

bright rays disturb
my rest
instinctively shock
my limbs
as if an alarm clock sounded
toppling me off
the curved log
splashing
into any tiny creatures below
rushing off
to the next appointment
twenty minutes past
the agreed upon time
keeping with the Khmer system

A Global Commute

Another long commute filled with odd events that only reminds me of Prague. However these moments of similarity between the lovely historical city of Prague, Czech Republic and the often mundane trips I make on Portland's trimet, are why this west coast city is growing on me. Now that I am finally able to move for a better job and more welcoming community, Portland smiles have been fully revealed.

Walking down the crowded streets under construction my thoughts jump back to Seattle but then I turn a corner and the brick of Old Town carries me into Boston. Before my eyes conjure up images of young Harvard kids or I begin hearing Cake blaring over the commons, my feet quickly step onto the banks of a Czech river...Surreal sculptures manifest across the dirty water. A row of yellow penguins lines the island shores then slowly sink beneath the murk that is turning red. Rich soil deposits are carried up the Tonlé Sap during this monsoon season in Cambodia. As the rain comes down strong upon my shoulders, I skip over a puddle towards Ban Lung's center market full of children, dogs and folks visiting from nearby villages. The man with one leg supporting his drunken lean is adjusting the knot dangling off what used to be his other full leg. He asks me for a beer as I squeeze past the pork slabs and duck carcasses with just a little more finesse than yesterday. Since I don't even have enough for my own lunch he should be grateful for the last of my peanuts quickly handed over, but he insists that I have more. No amount of smiles with my shaky Khmer can convince him we are nearly in the same predicament.

I continue moving as he reaches down into the trash bins near Pioneer Square. He's mumbling about a free meal that won't come for hours as I hop onto my MAX and think of what food might be in my cupboards. Since I only have this 40 min train followed by an hour bus ride to start preparing my own food. If only the other places I have been would set up programs like Portland has. So many sullen, tired eyes stare back at me as I return to my current reality of working class people on the MAX.