1998
closing time, circa 5 30 pm, after work, in front of uitm
I
to the north, quite light, but not to the south though, true of both turning sky and sea
rising wind, gusting in spurts, blowing plastic bag across the angry sandy beach
coming right in on cue, a thrusting lightning baton ordering bombing thunder
brisk pine needles, hand plucked by the wind, breathe out the perfume of a soft glissando
one young lady’s hugging Malay skirt rises higher than she would want, if she knew
II
iron rain pellets
hit tough,
uprising in spluttering
oyster surf with froth
ruck rough,
arguing in muttering
cotton futile flags
play gruff,
rioting in fluttering
III
two old women go by on ancient bicycles - Japanese, nineteen forty two?
after some time, the thunder, moving away to the south, begins to ebb and flow
three girls in tudungs, fleeing ensemble, maybe going shopping; I wonder
why girls in the bus no change, I don’t know; I paid the man twenty for each
the rain running away, a young boy, girlfriend sit quiet, pretending not to be
closing time, circa 5 30 pm, after work, in front of uitm
