Yard Sale of Thoughts

Nagaland

The khlong clicks her tongue
in scolding. She plays
a waiting game as  
I walk among flowers 
I cannot name,
past orphan vines 
clinging to a rusted gate
they have no hopes of outlasting.

When a Long-tail passes,
it raises the stakes;
mouth stretched wide,
the khlong ascends 
with her dominating grin
and a hammock hanging 
below the overpass
gets wet with splashes.

I hear echoing laughter,
a barrier broken,
I'd hoped to maintain,
as I clutch an unused MRT token
(my passage to higher ground)
knowing the coffee shop 
around the corner
will be closed after
taking on water again.