Burmese Nights

Camphor hung in the air
mixing with what the monsoon rain left
making things seem worse than they were

the sheets clung
with sweat and damp
naked back

Joe observed all this alone
aside
the depression
on the other end
of the bed

This was a different setting,
much more urban
than the
outposts of yore.
The muttering
overhead fan replaced
the
proverbial crickets of the night

But the pebbles outside
were the same
Orwell wrote about,
but will they still
be there
tomorrow,
Joe wondered.