At the corner Coffeeshop at Kerbau Road

3.10pm
At lengths, the peaceful streets
Guilty with afternoon heat
And sudden-filled
Of jasmine wafts and incense
And lunch-time curry
Over the corner of Kerbau Road
The smell of tired bodies
And milling Indian men
With thrust chests
Enter a blue and white shophouse door
The gaudy sounds of flute
And tabla and Bollywood women
From a faraway music player
Decorates the quiet
And all at once:
An engine is brought to life
Another is killed
A new breeze released
And a rag-and-bone man
Points his finger to an oblivious passer-by
And all at once a new moment arrives
And leaves the previous behind
3.45pm