~ Ruth Tan
I see a man living in lonesomeness
There he is
My present yet absent father
Fair-skinned, slender
High-cheekbones, tall-nosed
A good-looker they say
Miso soup, chin-cha-lo
Live clams doused in chilli and lime
Are his all time favourites
Newspapers, antiques
Beer and cigarettes
His lifelong best friends
He keeps his mind away from others
His quietness screams the loudest in the house
He seems to know much, but has no need of sharing a legacy
Many talents but never inspiring
Speaks like a Japanese native
But never enquiring if I could learn the same
Ritually writes my name on my new school textbooks
And crafts his sophisticated-looking signature on my report book
Yet never seems to care how terrible I fare every year
There is no birthday printed on his IC
And I am never curious enough to find out
That’s a whiff of the chasm in our relationship
I see a man dying in lonesomeness
There he is
Still that mysterious figure in my life
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