So, passionately,
They debate the Phi Kasue:
Maybe born this way.
Lady mystery,
Leaves behind so many things,
You think you know her.
Roaming southern Laos
She loathes thorns in your windows,
Tangling organs.
Her tastes are for you,
Unnappreciative prey,
Huddling by fire.
At the heart of this,
You say you want to taste life,
But, oh, not like her.
Flying through the air,
She stays out with you all night,
Until dawn arrives.
You complain, alive,
Bitter at your sad routines,
Your aging bodies.
With a "sabaidee,"
You could have joined her dance,
Mortal as you are.
Instead remember
Her lips the shade of night,
Her laugh, her brine scent.
She will not return
To see your ordinary
Rotting among stars.
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