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The Gap
by Jessica Titlebaum

Japanese Dave woke up before me in the mornings
he would walk to work before my cell phone alarm even rang
I took a shower on my porch, in my bathroom
said good morning to Herb, the monkey chained to my neighbor’s hut
he would do a trapeze act for me if he was in a good mood
if not, he would sit in the morning sun and await my journey to work 
and a journey it was indeed
pass the neighbor’s door with a Britney Spears poster
slide through the gap in the middle of the fence
follow a trail through cat tails to the small road 
where I once saw 2 cows grazing with no owner 
the bridge was not sturdy enough to hold 3 people
but you had to cross it to get from the road
to the train tracks that I had to walk over every morning
to get to school. 

Preachuab Kiri Khan was a seaside village
bordering the Myanmar rice fields on the left
it had occupants that worshipped Westerners
and a Monday night market where we bought lobsters
and crab and sticky rice with mango
the woman with the soup stand by the clock tower
had the best in town and it was hard to get a table in her section 
at night we played dominoes with our next door neighbors
and ate oyster omelets and drank Singha beers
and listened over and over again to I just called to say I love you 
my favorite souvenir from that time
is a scar I have on my right foot
bought at Ao Manoa beach behind the air base
turning a corner too fast on a borrowed bike
with Mary, crashing in front of all our students
breaking the mirrors off the side of the bike 
later on Irish Dave irritated the scab by stepping on my foot
at the video store where the woman behind the desk
took a picture of me because
I was the first white person she had seen.

Other poems by Jessica Titlebaum: