let them leave language to their lonely betters,
who count some days and long for certain letters

have i spoken of the heat?

or of my memories of darkness, when the cool set in and the orange streetlamps glowered? of riding in cars with my favourite boys, staring out windows watching the world pass by in a blur? of air-conditioning and the lazy twirling fans, watching dvds till the early morning, stumbing home as the sky turned light? or of sitting by the poolside, watching them throw each other into the cool blue water, deflecting questions? of eating laksa in the shade, and wanton mee and roast duck rice? accompanied, as always, by teh-peng?

have i spoken of the heart? and how i miss all of you? have i spoken of the heat, that reminds me of certain places and certain faces?

we, too, make noises when we laugh or weep,
words are for those with promises to keep.