I see him in his stylish red blazer And ketchup colored bow tie, With slimmer yellow pants & oversized booths. When I approach, he greets me, Ni Hao May I take your order. I say, Quarter pounder with cheese. He stands there smiling, with cute narrow eyes. Beside the mangosteen, lanzones and durian. He likes the aroma of roasted peanuts, nearby. Across the street, a dancing rice bowl with chopsticks. Weather, oh yes the weather is the same. It rains if there is rain in the city. Cool when its cool. I recall the tone of voices. Mandarin or Cantonese. Those are all I know, Im not worried. English, sometimes, French are spoken. Even inside the working class bazaar, teashop, or souvenir Store; where its common to see faces in white sneakers, With city map and Nikon, asking for places of interest. The paved sidewalk, with red dragon eyes, Takes me to a magical lagoon to reflect. On the bank, I smell the scented bloom of lotus, resting in sunlight. It gives a strange feeling, I am buried in mud. Anchoring my stem, To reach the surface. To find the roots of my enlightenment, Long abandoned but never forgotten. With bitter sweet memory, I toss a quarter on the mournful water; See the little ripples come for me, Like a part of me, has been left behind. IN THE GARDEN OF CHINATOWN Katibo 020914 Photo shared by: Virtual Tourist
Posted on: Tue, 02 Sep 2014 18:56:42 +0000
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