[Poem] Pastimes

Unamerican football is the national sport of Laos.

But they’re open to other games, too,

From top wars on the smoking peaks near Saisombun

To volleyball sets in Tai Dam villas.

The hopeful children know

Their own version of roshambo

And sepaktakraw,

Their limbs wild arcs and fire,

Tiny tornadoes upon the green.

But it’s difficult to get a satisfying game

Of chess or dominoes out here anymore.

Golf will never catch on in riddled Phonsavan,

And cross-country track and field games are

Ill-advised. Especially with cleats.

Crosswords can be resolved but are rarely seen,

While cryptograms fuel grave suspicions,

No matter how benign their modern code.

Hide and Seek seems particularly pointless

In the blasted zones of disjoint and hole.

A novice monk named Boun Lom

Is playing tic-tac-toe with me

In the shade of his struggling wat,

Trying to get the upper hand,

His humble zero in the center ever thwarted

In a game he doesn’t suspect he can’t win.

~The Tuk-Tuk Diaries: Our Dinner With Cluster Bombs, 2003