Bangkok

They lead us from their comfortable jets
into streets loud as abattoirs, cameras
slung around our necks like cowbells, nylon shirts
sticky on our backs. We joke as they eye us
like meat, and we're smug that the skirt at least
is true to travel posters. But we all
hunger to know the city's hidden 'real'
mind, so we observe its etiquette lest
we provoke its fangs. Come night, our dream sweats
as the girl slips her sumptuous waist quick
through the curtains, a python scarves her neck,
in her hands a meat-hacker. We pray it's
only our wallets on which she's homing
and surrender them, but she keeps coming.