dj super cambodia

arms are punching guitars behind the curtains and heads are bobbing in every window of my house as i duck my nude self behind doors and and foreign furniture trying to find the shower. i hear a manic clicking like tiny marbles dropping on polished concrete. two fat, spotted daschunds are running up and down the stairs leaving trails of crunchy nuggets. i call the dogs outside and find kids and big twisting kites in the dark orange morning. in the street i see my pouty punk rock friend from years ago. i've seen you on the computer i tell her, you have babies and a big fat boyfriend. a kite dives and crashes at our feet and i hear big wet beats and dissonant chimes and bells ping-ponging and eerie in the otherwise quiet street. the liquid music and swooshing kites and the sky: silver, orange and black.. and where is the dj? someone said cambodia