After ten years
In a sweatshop making clothing
For a multinational to sell at a profit
Funded by your low wages,
How can I disapprove
Of you
For taking the highway
To another kind of hell,
Where fat farangs
Like me
Watch girls on stages
Parade their flesh
Like so much meat for sale.
At least I paid you well
For what you gave me -
More in four days than they paid
In four weeks, though you gave me
What money cannot buy - a little love
And care
That helped to save me from the revenge
My western ex-wife wreaks.
We helped each other somewhat -
That is why
We’re not the villains
In this sorry tale.
© Bangkok Byron, 2007. All rights reserved by the author.

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June 11, 2007, 15:05
Own up - who tinkered with the formatting of my poem? As I look at it now on my computer it begins with left justification (but pushed over to the right by the ad block) then continues centred (yuk!). Also, it is double spaced - which I thought was only for manuscripts (to allow for correction). So, if anyone is reading it as my 'contribution to the poetry formatting debate', forget that for now, and focus on the heartfelt message.