A 'Holiday in Cambodia' Type Poem
At night weed smoke seeps out windows
Of this perfect rectangle of a room, so tall
It shades the garden before it that now lies barren.
The only piece of nature here is what we smoke up,
Us three sitting in a circle, passing the torch, and
Along with it stories of our difficult day. Sat here
Is me, a student working for the summer, another
Is the cook I work with, whose been at it for years, and
Lastly, the busboy, recently employed.
The three of us talk about the day, rude customers
We met, the things they’d say, and on and on, until
We fell asleep, in the big bed we three shared. The boss
Is paying for this room after all. Isn’t that nice?
Our sorrows have brought us together like few friends
I’ve had in real life. And I’ve learned to cherish this,
But today, the two asked, when are you leaving?
And it brought me back to reality. I’ve been
Masquerading. This isn’t my life. In months
I’ll leave, and they’ll be stuck here. But I feel
Not pity, which is the worst human emotion,
But shame that for a second I believed I was
Just like them. A working class man. No, I am
A college kid, parading myself as one, no better
Than the customers we make fun of, and that felt
Somehow worse. Hypocrisy is not for the self aware.
Sameen Shakya’s poems have been published in Alternate Route, Cosmic Daffodil, Hearth and Coffin, Roi Faineant and Thin Veil Press, to name a few. Born and raised in Kathmandu, Nepal, he moved to the USA in 2015 to pursue writing. He earned an Undergraduate Degree in Creative Writing from St Cloud State University and traveled the country for a couple of years to gain a more informal education. He returned to Kathmandu in 2022 and is currently based there.