To delete as many stories
as possible,
to erase each foot and print,
to shave every hair of memory,
I stood beneath the arch in Chinatown.
Call me Chung, call me hey, call me whatever you like,
I am nobody, just another walking body with slant eyes
looking for a job, the job of forgetting who I am,
short of hitting my head into coma.
Take me as your son!
I offer my wife beaten heart,
a bit useless
but still warm and beating.
No comments:
Post a Comment