The Boredom Of A Middle Age Expatriate


The sea were calm
The wave lip lapping on the shore
Lots of tired men
Dove on the black sea
They lost into it
I could hardly seen them
It was a starry moonless night
Blacker than the ink I scratched dubiously on weak paraphrase poem I drafted every chance
I got
My eyes followed the banking of a plane in the sky
What would the pilot think, does he flirted with young stewardess at the cabin
By chance get laid
As he maneuvered
In a sultry runway
Did he wonder
Someone down here enjoyed the small red tail light sketching on the horizon at 11 pm in the sand while rage bonfire roared near the edge of seacoast beside
Firefly in the sky
I wish I could watch some boat
At the Arabian Gulf
on clear calm water
I can’t even see one
I tried harder
Than mingled of these obvious people
damn I couldn’t take anymore all the fancy
putting my mobile tune to movie soundtracks
I listened
Than all the pretensions
I think of my old pal, the old Charles Bukowski on my bookshelf
I hardly breath
And I puke slightly at the side
I wish I had his book in my arm right now and read loud his stanzas and insults
his cat call and sneeze
Than standing outta here
We almost knocked to each other and didn’t converse, not even a nod, a perfect strangers
Think of me that I’m harsh writing this right now,
intending to some of them gonna read this on my face book page then
Wish he didn’t read this long poem of
smooth and clean kill to the gut
I couldn’t take all the drama
Maybe you said,
What an asshole
Reading between the line
Trying to decipher a clue
Okay, I almost vomit watching the entire nonsense raises in the air
that’s an honest truth
I wish I had a knife right now
one by one cut all the thorny grasses that grows near the tire of the bus at the parking lot
Maybe I did lost my interest
And try what was being rude
But you see, I didn’t say a word
You didn’t hear me crack a crisp mock laughter
Nor a single scoff
I got bored
A middle age expatriate
These people doesn’t try to see death on their whole sorry life
And ignored our starving nation
Mostly the poorest of the poor
and the homeless kids naked in the streets
They just cared only
how they look super cool
I know
They wanted accompany and working abroad is hard
and tried to impressed everybody
but not me
not in my book
All of us were homesick and sad
Even I
An expatriate in a far nation
really missed the soft cool wind of August in the tropics
The heat
It kills my moods
There this one big pot bellied man talked about his car on a hapless lad who tried to looked okay on his undersized short and undersized shirt
She is super fast, he said
My friend Art
asked me, lets take a walk
Then we walked at the crowd filled beach
Much better I felt and
thanked him on my mind
Because I almost twisted my face to infamous Jack Nicholson sarcastic grimace
in the dark
If not
I’m going to cut all the grasses near the bus tire and even the hedges at the wasteland near not far
I thought we’re going to take some photo at the place I said,
it’s already dark when we arrived and the yellow warm sun had gone elsewhere
because of lots of lots of
stopping at the road
along our way
They stopped and they talked and talked
and stopped and went outside the company car and lighted a cigarette
eyeing us at the bus
our sweat drenched faces
while I am thinking of the sunset I’m going to shoot on my camera
We walked one mile in the beach
Few young Arab dancing joyfully on their loud stereo at their luxury cars
They were laughing and hugging to each other and exchanged words of Eid Mubarak
These people own the place
lord of their land
And how I envied them
They treated us well
and respected
our God-given machinery
our hardship and talent
Most of
expatriates walked and walked
March and march
Through and through
Wishing to stare accidentally some raw legs of married women with their husband on no-women-allowed- going-out place
and none
All of us were bachelors
We tried to pushed our walking toward the edge of the sea that stopped on a beautiful walled resort
Let’s take a photo, my friend said
I was clutching my camera inside my pack bag
While he carried his DSLR on his small clutch
Let’s go back
He finally said without us taking a single shot.


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