Just the Wind
It is 5 o’clock in the morning
The sea is stirring
And so am I
It is 5 o’clock in the morning
My memories keep me awake
It is 5 o’clock in the morning
Who is banging on the door at such an hour?
It is 5 o’clock in the morning
But it was just the wind
Inviting itself in
Penang Hill
The rain approaches on Penang Hill
i cannot see past the vast fog in front of me
The wind is picking up speed and despite an eerie calmness reminiscent of the English seaside
There is a man ringing a small but loud handbell that is rusted from possibly decades of use
He is simply trying to draw attention
To his dilapidated ice cream stand
The rose, blue, and white paint peeling and browning
I try to learn from the moment
But the constant, hurried ringing of his handbell
Creates a strange sense of urgency in this otherworldly space
That i cannot place
Ashtray
I look at my beautiful ashtray
Made in the 1970’s in Mexico
Almost opalescent
Crusted with wood
Hand-crafted
And I think how my mother would’ve loved it
But how those things she loved killed her