Yard Sale of Thoughts

Fountains in the city go to bed by eight,

their strip tease unsatisfying

in the late-summer heat.

“Water we doing here?” I contemplate.

While the cascades obfuscate

(a verb I can not spell without corrective technology)

the building names

written in bubbly Thai lettering.

We’re lost again.

Tropical t-shirts give a cruise-ship feel

but with neon water guns reloaded

and hanging at each hip,

ready to give stranger’s a squirt,

if I can, or at least a good drip.

Ready to cleanse away the past

and welcome in the sun’s new year

at the festival of Songkran.

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GloPoWriMo #10: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like Bibbins’, uses alliteration and punning. See if you can’t work in references to at least one word you have trouble spelling, and one that you’ve never quite been able to perfectly remember the meaning of.