"At the Corner of JFK", Yong Han Poh
Mid-walk (briskly, for i am late again)
I see her: middle-aged, curled hair, Chanel bag
a dress in primary colors.
Phone to ear, I notice red nails
edged against a caked face -
another tourist.
Another forgotten image, except
I catch her words, lilting
wah, jit dao Boston hor, si beh kek sim
I pause, almost laughing
a strange welling erupts -
I am home.