The Cantonese Essence? (You See…)

I like to run my hands through tomatoes, stacked in yellow plastic crates under a single hanging lightbulb shaded in red…perhaps getting later chased by the Ah Mah and barraged with Cantonese insults.

You see, it appeals to my Id, my alter ego infatuated with the wrong and cheeky.

I like to converse with fishermen still in their canopied boats, in a language of the ocean, a language of humidity and a language of salted fish…perhaps getting side eyes from pedestrians from another place because I am talking to a stranger.

You see, not here. Not in my heart. In the seasides of Hong Kong, our hearts are pristine like condensed milk on white bread.

I like to close my eyes in a bustling tea building, playing background music of clanging porcelain stained at the edge with soy sauce…perhaps getting splashes of brown milk tea on my freshly ironed shirt.

You see, I don’t mind. The brown flower gives the white a certain flair. Here, nobody’s too good for each other. Stains here and there tells me you are human.

I like to run along the beach, on a prickly mixture of leaves, shells, fallen fruit, and sand while opening my mouth like a whale shark, savoring the warm salty air that is, for the most part, water…perhaps ending up with a battered and cut body.

You see, it satisfies me. My body might be worn, but my heart is refreshed.

I like to…reminisce about you, home, you are so far away from me now.

You see, this is what it is like to belong somewhere, and have that place belong right back to you.

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A little about the poem:

I wrote this sometime last year when I was missing home. I just want to tuck myself in a wet corner of the fish market and savour the smell of fish blood and seafood that I used to avoid. Maybe, l’ll lie down on the scales, guts, and ice on the floor just to find the feeling of belonging again. I’ll sink through that linoleum floor and into the ocean below. Sitting down on the ocean floor, I might feel belonging. However, there are no fish markets or marine remains for me to lie in here in North America… With COVID-19 and global disarray, who knows when I’ll be able to, when any of us will be able to hide in a little corner of our own fish markets.

About the Author:
Abby Lu
See About page.