The thick warm air Always catches me by surprise - An enveloping tropical blanket breathed in And settling, while I lace up running shoes To the sweep of a broom Outside my gate.
I’m coaxed off the perch of my Front door step By the prospect of adventure - In autopilot I saunter along, Muscles purring, dawn still an hour away.
The morning rays to come, That slow-cook the city, Bake the uneven pavements And simmer the layers of long-sleeved Crowds, astride their spluttering scooters Inching forward in morning traffic, Past sugar cane juice vendors and the Waft of street-food.
Until the chaos and jostle of life here unfolds I have these streets to myself.
With each new stride the pulse of blood and adrenalin Propel me, Afford me a freedom, An openness A calm, to anchor the rest of me in Temporary vacuum, sealed off From the humdrum of the day ahead - Egos and speculations, Emails and negotiations – A freedom of feeling connected to oneself
Threading through the darkly lit hems and alleyways - An urban avatar of sorts - I choose my path, Control my outcomes, Primordial, raging instincts pull me faster forward until The stillness is complete
Exhausted and gasping, I stare at the giant orange orb Cresting over Saigon bridge.
saigonsays 