A Map of Bangkok

I want the knowledge,
I crave the city map, the plan,
the ground with human tracings written small.

The 3rd Assistant Concierge follows me into the garden.
Things have happened in gardens before, I know

my senses are serpent-sharp.
I think she said: "Where do you want to go?"
I have no idea where I want to go: hardly ever do
I was hoping this time the map would tell me.
So I stammer something about food and hunger and she says:
"I could show you
good restaurant
good massage
good girl-show. You like girl?
Top secret, don't tell hotel."
"I am lesbian." she goes on "You don't have to be afraid of me.
"I take you to ping-pong show, banana show, cigarette show.
After show, you stay with girl, bring home.
Bring home be good for you, yes?"
•   •
I tell her: I can't get much topspin from my paddle:
it makes me resentful of ping-pong,
Cigarettes stink like lies and
I just had a banana at breakfast. No thanks.
•   •
When she walks away, I wonder.
What shows I'd show to go you
if you were here or I were there.
Would I take you to the puppy, kitten and toddler show?
Or the sashimi and Allagash Tripel show with the Dancing Kumamotos?
Or the soulful poetry show with the big chocolate eyes
and the snaky, forearm punctuation?
And after show, would you be my home?
My garden?
My map?
Be good for you, yes?