Written by Duanwad Pimwana
First published in 2012 in Underground Buleteen, Issue 16, edited by Wad Rawee
Translated by Peera Songkünnatham
Illustrated by Summer Panadd

[คลิกที่นี่เพื่ออ่าน “กรรมกรก็ฝันเฉกเช่นกัน” ในต้นฉบับภาษาไทย]

At first glance, the title of the following poem may seem like a generic affirmation that laborers also have dreams. But actually, as you will see, it points to a particular vision of justice that is: not just a daydream.

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A laborer dreams much the same

He takes a break from work at midday
That laborer with others under a makeshift lean-to
A crummy meal passes without complaint
Enough time left to lean back, recharge
Same as every day, after lunch
His coworkers begin their political debate
That laborer sneers at the group
Rolls tobacco in palm leaf, leans on a post, daydreams
……….
He dreams of one mighty weapon
Pleasing in its efficiency, admirable even
How marvelous it’d be if a laborer like him had in his possession
That weapon which prevents insult, disrespect
Protects the holder from being the target of verbal abuse
Protects regardless of truth or falsehood
Protects regardless of ground or aim
Protects regardless of right or wrong
Protects regardless of all else in the world
Utterances     written words     gestures
As if forced back inside the perpetrator’s brain
At will, a consummate retribution
Five years of prison for each utterance
Amazed, the laborer lets slip a smile
Thinking of demeaning looks, of belittling words
So routinely received they’re a fact of life
This special weapon full of special features
Will make him a holy man if only he’s entitled to it
A human being entitled to superhuman powers
What humanity may commit, he will commit
What humanity ought not to commit, he may opt to commit
Wickedness no one will get to the bottom of
Heinous crimes no one will witness
The laborer takes a heavy drag, shuts his eyelids
Against the glare of the sun, dives into the happiest of dreams
……….
A laborer with a weapon of choice
The human dark side is fed and inflamed
People’s faces parade up and down his consciousness
Faces he once hated from feuds
Faces that only left him feeling disappointed, disregarded
Faces he envies and just doesn’t jibe with
Even faces he loves that never loved him
These faces he wants to murder
But can’t, lest he becomes a murderer
In that happiest of dreams
He mumbles over and over to self
Commit a crime — and not be a criminal
Do evil — but always be the good guy
What humanity ought not to commit — can all be committed
Murder — and not be a murderer
Eyes still shut, he lets slip a chuckle
This superweapon makes him feel his sacredness so plainly
……….
The laborer opens his eyes, finds a seat
Time to return to work for the afternoon
His coworkers file away in groups
He gets up to follow, but from a distance
As though to refrain from mixing with the crowd
In the dream just now, he felt just like a king.