Do Not, My Love, Surrender Again To The Sultry Night

Do not, my love, surrender again to the sultry night

Of glaring music, blaring light

Filled with ennui, boredom, bitchiness and spite

Waiting hoping to pique the interest and entice

The bloated superannuated barang who ooze slug like

Along broken pavements of 51 Street

Sweaty shining under the blanketing Phnom Penh heat

Encased in cocooned layers of Western meat

Who eye each bored or hopefull girl

With slitted vulpine appraising eyes

To assess whether they proffer promises of carnal delight

Do not, my love, surrender again to the sultry night

That echoes with the sounds of forced trills of gaiety

Erupting from the fixed and painted mouths

That scarcely hide the avarice, need and guile

Of the taxi girls who flock to Sorya Mall

That cavern of misery and downfall

In an unending quest for money food and bed

For sometimes just a place to lay her weary head

Or hopefully a little extra to support the vice

That helps each girl fill the hours of the endless and unchanging nights

The video games, cards and

Of course smoking ice

Do not, my love, surrender again to the sultry night

-Michale Murray