absent

drift home on a storm
slide through the fizz
of air escaping in slow hiss
floating up the side
of this white building


she turns to him
i turn to her
she turns to me
i turn away

so nothing now is better
than something i did not receive
nothing is what i wanted
nothing now is what i get
and nothing you can tell me
will make it any different from this.

she turns to him
he turns to her

i turn away

and someday maybe
in these tomorrows grey
we'll meet again

and with a little salt and clover
i will no longer blame
you
or i.

After six

I should have known that I was expecting too much. Or perhaps just expecting the wrong thing.
People arrived in dribs and drabs, chatting amongst themselves, talking on phones, waiing every now and then to the dry hum of the monks chanting. The rain fell disinterestedly just a metre from where I sat, while stray dogs weaved in and out of the chairs sniffing for scraps.
Then without warning, or any discernable change in gear, it was over. The boy's father walked out and chatted to some of the mourners.
But it seemed starkly apparant to me that he was the only one who was really grieving. It occurred to me that his Japanese heritage played a part in his being more open to grief, but then him being the father of a newly dead 6 year old was probably the biggest factor.
I may be misjudging an entire population, and if I am I will be very pleased, but it seems that so many Thai people have a diminished ability to empathise. Not only empathise, but to face up to difficult situations, and face sadness squarely.
Many people have just passed this off as their culture, but it seems to me to be terribly unhealthy, manifesting itself in other areas of Thai life, such as outbursts of anger, high suicide rates, and a general intolerance of people different to oneself. These things are in no way isolated to Thailand, or Thai people, but perhaps its time that people started naming it for what it is, and stop calling it an integral part of the Thai culture.
It is an integral part of the Thai psyche, thats for sure, but as long as people allow it to masquerade as "culture", people will hurt with no relief or outlet.

I'm probably talking rubbish.
But there are so many things in this country that really disturb me.

The low point of the evening was when she called the father over and asked him if he had been to Patpong yet.
The look of horror in his eyes bored straight through me, leaving a hollow deep in my gut.

Rest in peace Yo Tashiro.

Rest in peace.

Six

He fell from the sixth floor of his school, six years after being born.

Thats about all I know. That and he's dead.

And tomorrow, dressed in as much black as I can muster, I'll be going to his funeral in the monsoon rain.

I mostly don't know why I am going, other than she asked me to go with her. That and I wouldn't mind grieving something real for once either.
I want the cold rough edges to show love's meaning to me again.

6 o'clock tomorrow, in the yellow evening bangkok rain, i hope to extract some life from death.

as selfish as that may be