hoi an

china beach, vietnam

he walks these mean streets. the sun beats down from above, the cracked concrete pokes like little daggers from below. he crosses wooden bridges and ducks his head beneath the tarpaulin above the market stalls as the old ladies in the conical hats call out, "you buy someting?" "khong, cam on," he replies. the sun is a little too hot and the wind may be a little too strong, but he stays humble and keeps his feet to the ground with his bamboo and rubber sandals (55,000 dong.) sporting an army green t-shirt with a gold star (70,000 dong) he sends the message that he is at the vanguard of the revolution. the fashion revolution.

he has seen too much. the chill of the early morning nips at his ankle as he sips his cappuccino and tries to forget. he tries to erase the memories, but they are too many. he tries to forget the terrible norwegian techno from the night before; tries to forget that somebody decided to play smashmouth at the aussie bar. he wants to collect his thoughts and prepare for the day and shields himself from the rays of the early morning sun with his bamboo conical hat (us$1) and stays warm and graceful with a navy blue wool coat (us$50) tailored to accentuate his grace.

i am the one you were warned about. you know that i am bad news, but you can't help it. here i come, a man who has been to all the places you were warned about, done all the things you were accosted for. i am the one who sold moonshine out of dixie cups while you were still on kool-aid. i am the one who set your grandmother's pigtails on fire. and i am the one standing in front of you, staring at you with hungry eyes and ready to seize you like hitler's at the gate, stalin's at the window, and the whole precious fate of humanity depends on us making sweet love tonight. and i'm irresistible in my full linen suit (us$don't ask.)