At night when I cannot sleep I have an urge
to climb up on the roof
and count the empty spaces between stars
they are always so far.
I wonder what time it
is in Hong Kong but realize that the sun is out,
nobody is watching the stars in Hong Kong with me.
Once, many years ago
I stood admiring a happy yellow poster in the Hong Kong Metro
40 feet away from my parents when someone covered my eyes
I was too surprised to scream
and was left gaping when my uncle’s face appeared in my view
suddenly thankful I wasn’t being stolen away to the mainland.
In bed, I looked up
at the ceiling imagining
a mirror out of which grows two women: one with monolids,
one with double
they look back at me, unamused. I cannot tell which one looks happier
to be living a 2-dimensional life.
When I sat in a cafeteria in the Midwest and carefully crushed four
small pearls of lychee between my molars for the first time in several years my friend asked how they tasted
so I told him they tasted like Hong Kong 12 years ago but he did not understand.