Chrysogonus #12 - A summer morning in Indonesia

A summer morning in Indonesia

our blankets were piled

messy, pillows were wet

from my drooling, overnight

salivating painted marks,

a geographical shape of my island

or your country maybe?

the stench whiffed, a morning aroma

soaring along the cockcrows

loud and rowdy, who made the rooster

a conch blower announcing a new war

a new day with rats thumping, walloping

on my roof like army marching out

to battle buzzing wasps

or hornets, one of those

insects loitering and nesting

in my loft, a warfare

below us, some eggs were fried

I could hear the sizzling oil

from the neighboring house

I could smell the grease

shiny surface, sunny side

eggs and their crisp edges

steamed rice standing, ready

warm, just out of the steamer

through the wall, I smelled them

sunrays sliding through my curtains

yellow gleams from the outside

yellower sparks next to me

I realized that morning

summer had made your blonde hair

                                             even lighter