Poem

Sometimes the Window is International Beer can on rooftop, restaurant garbage bins, sexy woman on billboard with petrodollar veins, whilst the homeless dig deep into Gaza for scraps; desert storms imminent. Inside my room is a goldfish, facing the bent differential of glass bowl and world, but I can reach for a lichee fruit in the South China monsoon, and kiss my wife as she stands on the riverbank of the Pearl. Here great comforts are sought and they never arrive. Instead, pitch battles are fought, just to own these rooms. Wake up, friends, let us open our hearts instead. Koon Woon