Thai Girl on a Pepto-Bismol Scoopy

Notes of moto are in her bearing
Destination mojo, straight-staring
“Trendy-compliant” labels her existence
A compliment to L’Oreal and persistence

She flits, so fragrant I see her scent
Flagrant contrails from a bike you can rent
Dump the myth, you icky old screw
Do the math, she’s not for you

Down the road she conducts her toes
Dawn pink heels and broom-stick pose
Like mama goose with three goslings in tow
Like a fish in free water who doesn’t know

In this life we're with who we can get
But she’s like the iceman, I’ll bet
She has her pick, and in her trunk
The stuff that freezes most men's junk

To think, to wonder, is she kathoey?
A thing to ponder flying down the soi
It matters not to the free thinker
But to the nut, the myopic stinker

She looks entitled and faring well
No, entitled farang, you can’t tell
Today she’ll make enough for rice
Today you’ll spend her pay check, twice

Here on these bikes the pavement is level
So mind those manners you arrogant devil
She will arrive, having never seen ya
Her wall is up, she’s from Ipanema