It was a sad lonely Saturday afternoon
away from you.
I wandered aimlessly around
Simei town centre,
wondering what
I should do.
I sat down
at a kopi tiam,
for late lunch.
Fried noodles
swimming in an ocean
of trans fat.
Tasted remarkably
like what I had
in Beijing.
If trans fat,
is a real health hazard,
according to New York's health authorities,
China's population
would be half
of America's
and the other half
dropping dead
of heart diseases.
Stupid fat fuck Americans.
They still don't get it,
its not what you eat,
its how much you eat,
Fat Fuck.
An elderly man
sat across me,
looking blankly
over a glass
of coffee with milk.
He doesn't seem
to be headed anywhere
or meeting anybody.
He was just contented
stirring his coffee
alone.
Maybe that is what
years of practising
dining alone
does to you.
I spotted a kid
frolicking away
in the open space
under the watchful eye
of a Filipino maid.
Makes me wonder
why do people have children for?
When the best family time
you have in your child's waking day,
is your weekend,
and you despatched the maid
to spend
what would have been
the joyous part
of parenthood
and weekend
notwithstanding.
Some people do not deserve
to be parents.
A woman in sunglasses
wearing a permanent scrowl
on her face
walked past.
She adorned
a white T-shirt
that shouted out
SYDNEY,
and a picture
of Sydney Harbour Bridge.
Does she understand
the architectural significance
of the Sydney Harbour Bridge?
Or the number of people
who died building it?
Or the number of people
who committed suicide
from it,
during the Great Depression
of the 1930s?
Or it was the scene
of White-Abroginal reconcilation
not too long ago?
I don't think so.
For her,
that cheap T-shirt
was no more
than a bragging right,
that she's been
to Sydney.
Big fucking deal.
I walked over
to the little acquarium.
The uncle there
was fast asleep.
I gently woke him up
and bought 5 parrot fish
for $20.
Walked home,
and released them
in the condo pond.
I hope they're happier now.
Swam 15 laps
and then to the sauna,
feeling like
a new man.
I blared Tiger Okoshi
on the stereo,
his piercing trumpet
blasts
over the cool night
as I sipped
the honey choya,
looking for the heart
of Saturday night,
wondering
if she is
alright
