Thursday, March 20, 2008


I was sitting there,
Eating lunch with him.
The tall, sweaty, pimply Canadian,
I’ve spoken about before.
He was telling me how he was planning it,
Getting up to Thailand on fifteen bucks a day,
Traveling by night to save from paying for hotels.
I listened and ate my food.
It seemed no big deal to me,
Living on fifteen bucks a day.
If you really had to,
It was easier than stepping in shit in a cow field.
When he finally paused to take a bite,
I said, “you shouldn’t have any problem with that.”
He was nodding and sweating
And then I remembered something,
How expensive beers were down there in Indonesia,
A couple bucks for a tall beer.
That would put a dent into a fifteen dollar a day budget,
For sure.
I never included drinking in my budget,
Because drinking was just expected, like breathing.
It was something I’d do no matter what,
An unavoidable expense that could never be calculated.
“well, depending on how much you like to drink” I added.
He looked at me, all excited about the answer
He was about to give,
Like he had it prepared or something.
He said to me, sweat dripping down his forehead,
“yeah, I’m spending nothing on booze,
Because it’s not like I’m gonna drink alone, hey?”
I swallowed my food, got up from the table,
Paid for my share of the bill
and walked my ass outta there,
under the scorching midday Balinese sun.
“fuck him,” I muttered.

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