Okay

I am filth

I am sadness

but I dress up superbly

and shake hands firmly

and smile

on occasions

that leave me filthy

*

Under the metal canopy

of rain and dirt

you read a Thai author

who died when death

didn’t have a medical definition

and you realize

you are older than you are old

for you notice the words

you’ve been desperate to find

your whole life

words that

involve your death

before the medicine

words that are nestled

in translation twisted

and sandwiched symbols

you don’t recognize

but a few you do,

a few that make the whole

and you there under the rain:

it’s okay

*

Pain already

the lights too bright

and the scattered shouts of the subway

that drown above the clouds

and their language

that I haven’t learned but can classify

as a cumulus

and stratus

and a storm somewhere

on another day

when it is sunny

somewhere else

and the people there will squint

and think

pain already

the light’s too bright