My Picture: Taken of a Paining by local artist in Hi Chi Minh City: Vietnam

It’s a day with just enough time left
to write a poem,
or at least to see the world
between the covers of books.

In moments like these I see
trees that cry in the night.
And it is easy to think about middle age, and
how some people grind away
at unhappiness.
Snarling at themselves
each day in the morning mirror.

And if I look around,
I can still see dialogue imported.
A stillness humped and wounded,
my whole apartment seems to be
thinking and talking.
And outside a couple are arguing.
Their only relief, a hope of meeting
another unhappy couple.