There is a light that comes from objects and
humans. Perhaps that’s not scientific
but it’s no less true. There is light in us.
We waited in a taxi line at a
mall, the fancy kind for which Bangkok is
famous. The bell hop asked our destination
so he could tell the driver who would then
decide if he would take us. So while we
waited it started to rain beautiful
big drops of water and people began
to panic as they always do in the rain.
The driver was older. White hair, a smile
and smooth golden skin. We nodded hello,
the secret language of Bangkok taxis.
Through the rain, we watched the city speed-crawl
by and talked about how lucky we are are.
Patiently the driver navigated
the streams of traffic, yellow, green and red.
We were his sacred delivery. Then
at the hotel, he counted out our change.
His light pinkness deepened into fuchsia
when we asked him to keep it. Kop khun kha.
Inside the hotel we bought macarons.
Rose macarons. Better than those in France.
The small sweet-natured women in the shop
love us and our strong preference for those
rose macarons. They think we are cute and
they laugh and wrap our macarons like gifts.
The t-shirts they wear as their uniforms
are pink. Pink like kind taxi drivers and