yellow shirt



From the Poetry Room at City Lights Bookstore

"Look at me," says the yellow shirt
across the window. A book in hand,
I merely offer it a glance or two
Afraid to break the spell that binds me
to this word-lit room.

Too late now, while the pages turn
in a blur and all I see is the yellow shirt
hanging over the fire escape, a splash of
color in a backdrop of fading paint and rust
"I have a story," it seems to say.

So I put the book down and listen
while the yellow shirt whispers a
tale of an immigrant family, a father
who works as a cook in a dimsum
restaurant nearby, a mother who goes
to an adult school at night, and their
5 year-old daughter who translates for them
in her accented English.

4 comments:

  1. Glad you're writing poems again. Thanks for the photo with your words. I loved how you imagined a whole life behind that shirt.

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  2. Hi Odang! Miss you dai.

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  3. I love the poem! I always like to imagine the stories behind things...you are able to put them into words.

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