Clamped together like refugees
on their own island.
To live in Krabi
and dote on in Railey.
A friendly wave met with glassy face.
On the waters we are all the same,
not players in that island game.
Where your withered hands, perpetually salty,
meet your primed smile.
A grimace laced with hardwon sugar,
on the rim of a margarita glass.
I like how the waters equalise us.
Flashpacker and smile-pusher,
become nomad and refugee.