A POEM - BALI IS FOR LOVERS

BALI IS FOR LOVERS
Bali was another one of those places,
Like Venice or Paris or some of the islands
In the Gulf of Thailand.
It seemed a place that was meant for lovers,
For couples that were still in love.
Me? I was the most lonesome man in the world,
Never mind just on the island of Bali.
I went to bed alone and woke up alone
And ate and drank and walked alone.
It wasn’t all that bad, though.
I was good at being alone,
And in the last few months
I’d had plenty of practice at it.
But as in all the other Asian countries I’d visited,
Most people couldn’t believe it.
“where yo friend? Where yo friends?”
I’d smile and nod, muttering,
“I travel alone. I don’t have any friends.”
But coming home in the evenings,
Back to my bungalow,
It was hard not to wish for a girl.
“If only the skinny, little Indian girl could be here,”
I’d think to myself.
“or Soo-ay. She’d just bitch and moan,
But we’d have a fun time at it.”
But alone I remained, passing the days.
“it’s all right,” I told myself.
“soon enough I’ll be stuck back in some job,
Being around people I don’t like,
Being forced to shoot the shit with them,
Make up things to talk about, earn the money.
Let’s just enjoy this solitude right now.”