Looking out the window, the monsoon
wind raging above the waves, blowing
the smell of the Indian Ocean through
the island of Weh and into my room,
slamming doors and windows, snaps shut
the daily session “English Lessons for You”
from Radio Australia, crushing my world
a sixth grader acquainted with dreams.
right at the end of an alley, the moon
rising above the Jacaranda tree
lightening the heart of a lonely boy.
Under the Stormking light, I seize each
word with anguish, stare half-eyed at
misspelled words in a time so desperate
of hope, familiar to a life of simple tasks
and habits, count fallen coconuts wet
On the way to school, I hold onto a dream
to visit New York featured on a “Budget Travel”
magazine left on a bamboo bench. Imagine,
walking along those avenues, ablaze with lights
the moon perched on a giant billboard, inches
from the clouds, advertising American candies
in all colors and flavors, beckoning me at the edge
of my sleep.
I share the magazine with children
in the neighborhood, we look at the page
wipe our eyes in disbelief, let out a wild cry:
“Alo! Alo! Amerika!,” “Alo! My Friend!”
We set our hearts, leap into the world,
winging our way to Amerika.