Surabaya airport, Java. The date
Doesn’t matter. I first noticed the man
As he puckered and sucked his smouldering Havana with a great
To-do, sat back and proceeded to fan
Himself with an battered old copy of the thoughts of The Great
Helmsman. He wore a linen suit and tan
Shoes, had hair en brosse and a face whose state
Flickered between weariness and wiliness. But this is a sham.
What I saw was an Asian woman, aglow
With love as she dropped water with undiminish-
ed patience into the eyes of her stone-still child. (And so,
- Ta-da! - the sonnet’s obligatory couplet to finish:)
In the light of that mother for whom her son was so bonny,
What am I, but some Surabaya Johnny?
Doesn’t matter. I first noticed the man
As he puckered and sucked his smouldering Havana with a great
To-do, sat back and proceeded to fan
Himself with an battered old copy of the thoughts of The Great
Helmsman. He wore a linen suit and tan
Shoes, had hair en brosse and a face whose state
Flickered between weariness and wiliness. But this is a sham.
What I saw was an Asian woman, aglow
With love as she dropped water with undiminish-
ed patience into the eyes of her stone-still child. (And so,
- Ta-da! - the sonnet’s obligatory couplet to finish:)
In the light of that mother for whom her son was so bonny,
What am I, but some Surabaya Johnny?
(17.8.1997)
