Time of Falsetto Daydreams

A soft rain falls: this is tropical Asia,

lands of rice, bamboo and monsoon.

The waitresses are arranging flowers

in preparation for the after-five crowds.

Baby’s breath and white carnations.

A touch of class for new Asians.

(excerpt from “Zooming Out:

Re-imagining Singapore”

by Tay Kheng Soon1)

‘

Oh you are half-amazed by the meekness

Of this rainfall that dribbles, like porridge

From the corner of the willful sky-child’s tongue

It is no longer clear if you are the child

or the parent; you have after all,

left signs on sidewalks the way a farmer’s

changkol2 would have struck soil

all the way

back in tropical Asia

‘

Nowadays the general moisture from

Unanimated urban sweat and bodies

that scuttle carbon dioxide between them

They blur you from fields and forests

The heady smells of home sputter grudgingly

past five-o’clock traffic-lights

you have already crossed over

--might have welcomed them

(Though the gratuitousness

of oriental hospitality

must cringe alongside the accent!)

‘

Every evening outside community centers the

random population edges

are hemmed in by heartland theme-songs;

More baby-breath in the bushes

than carnations in glass vases

watered and dewed for special occasions

All is white, the colour of purity,

(in nature never found uncorrupted)

You frankly prefer the anonymous,

self-gratified bougainvillea splashes

waylaid on overhead bridges,

the still semi-kampong laughter

of playmakers weaving stories

oblivious to monsoon

It is a time of falsetto daydreams

But they will grow up

some day

‘

Just like you

1 Page 179, “No Other City”, Ethos Books, 2000

2 farming tool