default
increase
decreaseBangkok Don Juan
Canto the First
Viagra Falls
I
“I want a hero” - but I do not mock
Lord Byron by beginning the same way
As his “Don Juan”. Nor would I want to shock
The literary-minded person - nay,
It’s just that, in my story of Bangkok
I also need a hero - straight, not gay,
And representative of those I see
Hanging round gogo girls - and yes, like me.
II
The Thailand Hall of Fame may help me out:
Stickman, Earnshawe, Foskin - even Dana
(Or should I say “Rogue’s Gallery”?) I doubt
I’ll find my hero here. Somewhere in Nana,
Pattaya or Soi Cowboy he’s about,
Looking for action for his pink banana,
Leering at girls who simper back at him;
An ordinary guy - I’ll call him Jim.
III
And though he is my Bangkok Don Juan
A Don Juan he’s not - nor Casanova.
A fat and fifty-something sort of man,
He is divorced and hasn’t had a lover
Since, it seems to him, the world began.
And now no wife, no girlfriend - sex life over,
He has at last retired from his job, banking,
And spends his time on his old hobby - w...weeding the garden.
IV
Now, being a banker, Jim was not a thick man
And knew a lot about all things high-tech.
On a computer he was quite a slick man
And knew his way around the Internet,
So not surprisingly he hit on Stickman
(The late-lamented whom we’ll ne’er forget).
What he read there gave him a pleasant shock,
Then goodbye my darling w...weeding, hello Vietnam Bangkok.
V
Twelve hours in a sardine can feeling rough,
The queue at Don Muang, the culture shock,
A Taxi-Meter with the meter off,
The sights and smells and noises of Bangkok,
A hotel in Soi 4 - more than enough
For a man who’d hardly ventured round the block.
He should have spent that night in bed alone -
But no, he couldn’t wait to hit the town.
VI
He stumbled on a place called Baccara
And found the view, to say the least, appealing:
Girls in bikinis danced upon the bar,
But better still, above was a glass ceiling
And yet more girls. But what was so bizarre
Was - they were knickerless - his head was reeling.
Something that feminists thought would ne’er come true -
A glass ceiling that girls had broken through!
VII
He saw a girl he liked - young, brown and slim.
Luckily, she spoke English: “My name Nok,”
She said, and Jim replied, “My name is Jim.”
She stroked his thigh (or wallet). “First time Bangkok?”
“No, no!” he lied - but she saw straight through him.
“Pay bar!” she cried, whilst toying with his c...can of Singha.
“How much?” he asked. “Five hundred is barfine -
Tomorrow pay five thousand - that is mine.”
VIII
She seemed to take for ages in the shower
While Jim looked forward to the promised mating,
At last it came - the long-awaited hour:
She lay there ready, naked, panting, waiting:
A beautiful young Thai - a very flower
Of womanhood. “Farewell to masturbating!”
Thought Jim, caressing from muff to midriff -
But ’twas no good - his resolve was not stiff!
IX
Nok fell asleep, pleased with a night off work,
As for our Jim, his tears fell like Niagara;
His dream was shattered, and he felt a burke,
Like an old Roman cheated in th’ Agora.
Now if he’d thoroughly done his homework
He would have learned the uses of Viagra:
A drug for impotence which also serves
To help a monger with his concert nerves.
X
At last our hero cried himself to sleep
And dreamed of all the things he didn’t do.
And Nok was dreaming too, not counting sheep,
But counting all the baht that she’d accrue,
And what she’d buy and how she’d get it cheap:
Maybe a piercing or a new tattoo.
But as for Jim, don’t worry, he’ll be pukka -
Tomorrow, he’ll find another girl and f...feel more confident.
© Bangkok Byron, 2007. All rights reserved by the author.
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