Home; Asian Edition

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I see the neon stars on black rectangles
and the sky is a misty shade of pastel

A single white light bulb sparkles above green and white checkered tiles
and a wizened crone rocks on a metal chair

The motorcycle is a color of a child's yawn
and its engine sounds like a purr

We sit on the metal sheets of roofs and kick off rust
watching the sun rise as we eat tea cakes and rice triangles

The air smells like sweat and engine oil
Astringent and sweet, the scent of the urban city

Alleyways narrower than a breadth of a man
The dog slips through the beaten iron gate

Wooden floors and flowery bed spreads
Her voice sounds like paper in water

Endless sky, endless earth
Scrapers of the sky, neon lights like a necklace across the horizon's chest. 

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