by Ma Chinthe
The room is not tiny,
I would say it is big enough for staying alone.
The light is not dim either,
I would say it is pretty bright.
I am not a miserable person sitting alone under the dim light of a tiny room.
The shop is in West 40 St,
So, keep walking to kill my feet!
Is that one I am looking for?
Not yet, I am still lost.
The glittering stones in downtown,
People cradle them and skim the price
“So pretty! Please take it!”
Someone called me through the opening of the curtain,
“Come in, just for a moment”
It is dizzying to see the intentionally revealing flesh.
Although first I thought the smell of salt air would sooth my tiredness,
I am missing the Bay of Bengal much more now
Place your hands here and lift your face this way
In an instance, lights leak through with sizzling sounds.
“You been here long enough?”
“Oh, you are still young”
After people persuaded me with these words, nothing returns.
And how about the kisses?
They are mixed with the smell of Black
And only bitter kisses could I find, I guess.
It is not an age-old wine that I am craving,
But just a mouthful of homemade strong tea.
Is it something to see enviously by others for you?
To walk down into the subway with high heels and a cream puffed face.
When I say..
I feel bad for you
See you tomorrow”
The room is not tiny.
The light is not that dim either.