Out By The Equator

Out by the Equator

there’s one o’ those places

all ex-pats go.

Crowded between streets

packed with motor bikes

the food carts pushed

by vendors shouting

special sauce

maybe a souvenir

hawker or two

waving postcards

or carved wood

dicks equipped

with bottle openers

Yeah, this place

it’s not too big

and a shout

will fetch an exotic look

from the bartender

but that beer arrives

after growing a pair

of legs with a smile

like California sun

and a heart like flint

so you and the few

talk how things

have changed

since tourists

found the old

hangout.

Now expat A

and expat B

commiserate

in their vodka cloud

how the natives

just don’t behave

anymore.