you are eternal summer.
burnt sunshine, brown rice,
honey jasmine tea with a thin slice of lemon. aiyu.
melt freezy on my tongue, the awkward dance of converting fahrenheit to celsius.
trying to fit both worlds into the gap between your two front teeth. lip gloss
is the only thing that survives, is sticky
on rims of cups and mixes into hotpot. no more sticky than the air around us; god
the tropics are humid. this dragon slumbers.
we go breakfast shopping at the market,
tuck lychees into sleeves
search between molars for first language. this steady build-up like
noodles crowding in the mouth. we are
greedy for some cramped space to breathe in. strangers make us
take off our rings and relatives make us put them back on, so
scrambled and sweaty we are grateful when the
air conditioning hits. but you, dark green and sesame oil and mangoes and red bean,
who i can no longer smell when the plane lands.