the esplanade weaves through the intersection
of two circles in a venn
in which the existence
of both public and private things exist.
khlong san saep watched a spillway
of rainwater into its already bulging body,
swarming masses of potted flowers
onto the platformed walk.
the women used to wash clothes
and string them along like lanterns.
household reclaimed concrete. now,
it is canalside storage.
the esplanade defies ownership.
it peers into windows of mother shredding pawpaw,
tossing salad. or maybe neither public
nor private existed. khlong san saep
watched the ferry and encroaching civility
from over the eastern border.
the water used to be for all.
but so were the shrines at home and
its golden-stained frames, prior to discursive import.
the esplanade saw
private/public
shipped in a flag with different shades of
red and blue. the white came in waves of defeat
but now khlong san saep overflows with runoff
from apartment bowels. it watched its own spine commodified
as an entertainment complex on ratchadaphisek road.
its wet markets dry out in the sun
between waves of american rest,
recuperation, and miscellaneous tourists.
concrete stuck to the banks
directs sewage away from royal lineage.
Image credit: National Geographic