By Luchang Zhu
Morning in Houston or Hong Kong,
or somewhere in my dream.
I found a narrow alley
where I could smell
half of Southeast Asia.
A diner called “Ding How,”
a name stranded in 1945.
The table was sticky.
The menu was sticky.
A bowl of Vietnamese beef pho.
A cup of Malaysian white coffee.
The steam and fragrance rise
like incense smoke
searching for heaven.
In the corner
a phonograph was singing:
A River of No Return.
Luchang Zhu is a scientist based in Iowa. He writes poetry in his spare time, often drawing on memory and place.
