Once

Once, About ten minutes ago in the year 2006 or 2549, depending upon which avatar or Messiah is consulted, I Tumbled out of my bed to the Untranslatable Predawn Cackle of Frantic voices Descending. So, with urgency Rarely experienced since the Evacuation of my spirit From the Land of Possession Addiction, I was called to summon previously Unknown prowess Chancing traffic choked streets Of Nakhorn (used to mean “New City” 700 years ago but not sure now) Chiang Mai. So there I was Aboard my mostly pint-sized for a European descendent Kawasaki 112, Red-blooded American head Protruding turret-like out of an Undersized helmet that, If nothing else, Officially pronounced me foreign Blazing a jutted path around Decrepit trishaws, Ubiquitously red baht busses and, Not the least, a motorcycle with a sidecar bandaged to its Aching side just in time to witness a Spit-shined just out of the wrapper BMW Brusque aside a Sardine packed dump truck Loaded, Not with dirt, but five dollar a day Laborers. All this and more Just moments before Mounting the silted Ping and Stampeding city gates, I glimpsed Censored Snippets of TV reports blurting something unintelligible like “Bangkok coup”, “Corruption”, “A King” And Somewhere, Quite uncensored, of a not so pleased Laozi, Lotus splayed in Meditation Kneading the Eastern soil one Daoist grain at a time, Before ancient city walls Rose up, Monolithic in my path. And then the recall that Centuries before, Burmese raiders Resplendent in warrior garb Plundered the palace and soul Of the kingdom Thai before stealthily Creeping back to their lairs, Buddha-fat with riches. That leaves the Siamese of 1935 And me, to wonder Where is freedom When we travel so far Pell mell and Peril, only to discover In a fleeting brief moment the road to Iniquity marked, rather Erroneously, with the signpost to Promises?