because time

A question of identity then, a question of mortality now.

photo by dsnake1



because time



because
     the old block of flats is gone
     with its rusted railings, paint
     and love poems peeling from walls
     chipped concrete, vomit stains
     and flocks of contented pigeons
     in its place an intimidating
     30 something storeys tower
i lost my way

because
     these are the worn stone steps
     where we sat like buddhas
     talking our woes, and what ifs
     bummed a cigarette when poor
     at the only place we had then
     waiting for the long night
     to call off its foot soldiers
those stones are gone!

because
     It was here one of the boys
     brought along a parang one night
     "is it lovely?", (it was lovely)
     but careful with that, Ah Huat
     it is easy to end up in the CID
     if we could not explain that steel
     such were the streets we walked
those streets are gone!

and because
     i come back to look for you
     these streets now sterile
     with clean-cut girls and boys
     and people in coffee shops
     with lottery slips wishing
     of being instant millionaires
     and because time was not kind
i, an old man,

     stumble back into the noise
     and tunnels of the train station.




20/11/2018
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This was a poem submitted for a national competition. It was not among the finalists. No one wants to read about old men, I guess.

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"I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

-- Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song

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© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 ) 2019