it would be on quiet days like this
a typical Sunday for brunch and tea
dimsum on North Lamar & Ferguson
with the nail of a carpenter's pencil
you'd check boxes, my small wishlist:
2 shumai, 2 hargow, 1 radish cake ...
we couldn't forget the egg tarts either
then we'd take the city bus home. later
at the last stop, I saw an older couple
at the depot & thought they look like us
though were they arriving or departing?
you were paraselenic, out before the sun
bright eyed smile between dark fringes
the September nights tasted like plum
its sunsets like peeled satsumas
we would walk the rest of the way
through the dimly lit streets, where
drivers would mistake us for lovers