While waiting for the band to go on at Chiang Mai's North Gate Jazz Co-op, Phil and I ordered a pint of Sang Som (Thai rum) and wrote some poetry together. In the first poem, we each wrote a line or two (or more), then passed the pen. In the second, we limited ourselves to one word at a time, back and forth. They haven't been edited.
North Gate Jazz Co-op
A piece of home abroad
Or is it?
A taste of spice overseas
Or are they borders?
Sounds of Chicago
Patterns, colors of the East
Lindsay Alexander and Fruteland Jackson would be proud
Following the guidance of strangers
Mom and grandma might not be so proud
“There’s an American in the room”
And a man with a loofah on his back
Ok, it’s just hair
Twenty people wait for music
Or maybe only two
Geckos cast thicker shadows than peeling paint
Saucer plates make for Sang Som carriers
A simpler solution than calculating change
Too bad outside drinks are not welcome
No calculator required
“Minimal” states her bag
Will it produce the desirable effect?
Tangled cords are a part of jazz
The cadence of preparation
Less harmony, more camaraderie
Though it’s loose now
And we wait
Jimi Hendrix on the case
Buddha in the shrine
On the floor
Anticipation is key
A minor key
Possible it’s pentatonic
Will this, you be worth the wait?
If not, you’ll be the one getting drunk tonight.
Five and that’s what it says
I heard four chords
Familiar like winter
When common folk
Or their kinfolk are not exposed
These soundwaves guide them like gravity guides matter
Sometimes they take less than what curiosity unfolds
Sometimes they make all the factors form a clear resolution
If we applaud when the time is a propo
Then we know we have met the end.
I quit a job I enjoyed at Founders Brewing Co. in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and left my family, friends, and beloved dog to join my boyfriend in moving across the world, in search of adventure and new experiences. I arrived in August 2015.