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I am over you
but not if I’d walk by Ching Kiang Street,
or whenever I’d see
the unique architecture of the Chinese Temple.
Not when I know I still could peek
beneath the jaquette of my address book,
your photograph fastened there.
I am over you,
or almost;
at least
I am near
the apogee of my sentiments
over misplacing you to the opacity
of Ching Kiang’s purlieus.
I am over you,
though, only
almost.
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*************************************
crystal face I kiss
tongue tastes like sweet cold rain
I fall into pond
|
Apat Na Sulok
