Love is

my grandmother asking me what I want for breakfast every night;

when she watches me eat the nutritious steamed fish with ginger

that she cooked with her tubby belly sticking out at the flaming wok;

my father who doesn't give a hoot-ass about the art I make

picking me up from the mrt at 11.30pm in his pyjamas;

my mother, not giving up;

a real tight hug;

lunch at 12:15;

sitting close;

letting me use the toilet first;

sharing water;

packing lunch too;

a handwritten letter, sent by post;

a brush of the hair, pat on the head;

a rusty old accordion;

landing in India;

28-rupee thali eaten by hand;

phone call from home in another land;

delirium spice mixed by heart;

long silent train rides, crazy wal-mart;

magic marvellous masala chai;

sharing roadside pad thai

you had coffee I had soya bean

you have long hair I have short,

you are tall I am so tiny but we

confidently walk the dark streets side by side;

landing in changi airport and

going to the girl's toilet together;

waiting waiting waiting and then

going to the movies together;

sleeping over with the cousins;

the smell of dried flowers;

the fresh taste of mango;

the warmth of tangyuan;

the wholesome fragrance of nasi lemak rice;

when you tiao found dou jiang;

garage sales on sunday afternoons;

phlegm wriggling in the pavement;

an old hard scab;

a wrinkled veined hand;

a gloomy reservoir lake;

the talon of a black cawing crow;

droplets of nosebleed;

throwing chicken rice at the wall,

sweet sauce stain and red chilli brains;

terribly sleepless nights;

nearly a heart attack, angry blue blood;

the familiar smell of insect repellent;

rough tree bark outside my house;

rainbow suicides on sunny days;

playing pretend on rainy days;

pretending to love on empty nights;

a mime;

without time;

time out of mind;

fat juicy lemon-lime;

not needing to explain;

dangerous, poisonous, consuming;

simple, gentle, sweet, kind.