eighteen

suddenly I feel like I’m eighteen again
leggings and a denim jacket and no umbrella in the rain
like I will go on loving you in my head
but in front of you I never come prepared

my words struggle to give you an angle
verses entangled as the world stumbles
I dare not blink seeing you turn where the road bends
trying to catch a glimpse through your lens

but without the years how would I know
the fun of chasing smoke after a blow
still my fingers race against the night
tracing the outline of a self I might

Hà Nội, 4/2026

to see (what we want to see)

darling, do you see now?
our whole life right ahead
let me show you around
all that I hold dearest

the sill where it drizzled
now soaks in golden light
the sky once lackluster
today bursts open bright

from flowers: a medley
with the wind’s gentle hum
all the love kept neatly
in this place we call home

memories overflow
in drawers and in pages
with wonder I have told
poems for the ages

and this is me, your me
never thought myself fair
this little life of me
makes not much glow to flare

fumbling over the food
clumsy with knife and peel
I save my few sweet words
for verses meant for you

my nose, so big and flat
my hair a tangled mess
my body soft with fat
lipstick, a hurried smudge

I think – but dare not ask
darling, do you see me?
or please just don’t, perhaps
let me dream peacefully

for whether dark or dawn
my world’s forever full
my days keep living on
because you, because you

I hear the rain keep time
to the rhythms of your words
in your hair, sunlight warms
the day stretches its chords

the air thick with coffee
and flowers in season
how could I grow old, see
in days full of passion?

my hands would still find yours
guide you across the floor
count the tiles as we move
the home grows ever more

and our hearts wider still
for you to come and rest
so you will hear it fill
with all that I love best

I love your honeyed words
your careful little feet
love your meals of comfort
your hands, gentle and sweet

your back and your shoulders
your eyes, your lips, your skin
even all the wrinkles
I love your every inch

to see you beside me
a dream that’s always true
forever you will be
the fairest that I knew

Hà Nội (and everywhere), 2-3/2026
–
original Vietnamese version here

brewing

the mid-twenties: one long caffeinated haze
between overpriced lattes, busted coffee machines, and transitional craze

half-packed cardboards like dreams on pause
we haul our lives without a cause

ambition in foams and burnout in grinds
milky hopes stirred in bitter designs

but somewhere there’s space, there’s light
where a good blend softens the edge just right

here’s to the move, and to the jittery crew
new desks, same grind, perhaps with more clues

clean, hot, generous – coffee flows like ideas in the morning
’cause sometimes, changes brew better things

Hà Nội, 6/2025

measures of time

at first, time was a hesitant ring of the doorbell
the lavish dinners I was only picking at
time felt endless like the parties we had
and stayed stuck in the playlists I didn’t get

time crept in, as did the extended daylight
time filled up the bin with things that had no other outlets
time was your tees in rotation till laundry day
then your black sweater thrown on any of my outfits

time evaporated in tea steam and forgotten cigarettes
and froze in two hundred photos of wide grins and unslept nights
time offered no answers, just questions lingered
then flew by,
just like the plane that took me away

Hà Nội, 3/2024
–
started this right after I left, but only finished it today
to the day we met, precisely one year ago

on graduation

when once lunch pals gather in the grand auditorium
and the tutor waves and smiles from the stage
we laugh at the jokes of the old man on the podium
and grin even wider as we celebrate

when academic stress becomes anxiety about walking the stage
and cameras are no longer for assignments, just for the feed
we did great, and will now turn the page
people will know that we care, as life’s adventures greet

when home becomes just another moldy room for rent
and people continents away become home
across the oceans, love and wisdom are sent
the echoes of laughter find us wherever we may roam

when “let’s meet this weekend” becomes “remember when”
and “see ya tomorrow” becomes “may our paths cross again”
our time here ended right where it was meant
but it’s the company that made it all not vain

Brighton-Hà Nội, 1/2024

would you like some chai?

the bubbling milk foam embraces
the soft scent of a new day
my legs curled up under the duvet
hands clasping the rising smoke

the silence of unspoken words
steeped in the chai’s pleasing flow
hassle might face us tomorrow
but for now, still here we sit down

with a spoonful of sweetness
in a cup of no worries
words of love, like an old tale
and chai, a smooth warm hug

smoke swirls around the mug
as do your lips, around mine
we brew tea, and light the cigarette’s glow
as the day gently unfolds

Hà Nội, 10/2023
–
this piece was originally written in Vietnamese

Sundays

we would still be lying down by midday
giggling about the fun we had last night
and the night before,
and the night before

I sniff,
today smells fresh:
ciggies rolled, coffee brewed, you doused,
all savored in bed

we stay behind this wall of secrets
that have nonetheless been given away
by the telling sounds from one side
and the deafening silence from the other;
that will always have us snicker

at some point we will get up
travel across the city for an ice cream tub
idly waiting for tomorrow
when the same old routine begins anew

TP. Hồ Chí Minh, 6/2023

function of a playground

a spot for occasional daytime pickup
and most often for midnight strolls
a place to walk off the one-liter ice cream tub
and wrap up thoughts inside a roll

hiding behind the cloud of smoke
huddling together against the cold
sipping on a Kopparberg or a Coke
passing as playful 16-year-olds

on a bench to watch friends and neighbors
both those cast off and newcomers
the things we see, the things we saw
dangling in our heads after a ride on the spinner

blasting speaker wouldn’t cause an uproar
and there’s no pain even when free falling
we tread and plunge and mark our colors
on this blue chunk of rubber padding

to Northfield 13
–
Hà Nội, 6/2023

the morning after

in the kitchen a burning smell lingers
maybe it was the kheer
or something else that simmered
longer than just one afternoon

the big pot sits still on the table, empty and spotless
barely a trace of the mess that brewed
as we laid down our bags and sipped chai
inhaled the aroma and swallowed our pride

I used to believe food was a love language
I still do – only with a poignant reminder
that onto your plate the gravy is not always gently poured
sometimes it scalds with searing steam

I wish it was Thursday so the cleaner would come today
instead I’ll spend time scrubbing the stains away
trying to unlearn that the hand that feeds
can be the hand that hits

but for breakfast today you want eggs
and I want something to keep myself preoccupied

Brighton, 4/2023
–
edited 5/2024

flickers

from where we are
it flames just once, in several flickers

fire spreads from where we embrace
and from the ground it floats to space
we are only sure about the clouds

in this hazy state
I wish you will never leave
from where I just am once

for things that happen just once
will prove that life is but
a series of absurd flickers

Brighton, 3/2023