another one.

Take Me Back
Estelle Gonzales

5AM -- the marching band starts.
Off-tune riffs of ‘Old Suzanna’ chase evil spirits
into the backdrop of the morning sunrise.

A Vietnamese funeral procession commences.

Mutterings of street vendors and xé ôm drivers soon flood the alley.
Taking their positions, they set out a keen eye
for the best customer with the highest price.

“Madame! Sir! Coconut? Motorbike? Only 10 000 Vietnamese đong!”

Schoolgirls in white aó dàis bring back a glimpse of tradition.
On bicycles they float amidst the sea of vehicles and smog
created by the angst of a nation that works so hard to not be left behind.

Cloud-like images are distorted in the thick smoke and exhaustion of the city streets.

5PM -- the sinh tô ladies set up shop.
Filling their kiosk shelves with rainbows of fresh mangoes, papayas and starfruits;
their warm smiles genuine, invite good profit.

Their secret ingredient is sweet condensed milk.

The sun wearily sets on the run-down cityscape of Saigon.
Deep hues of oranges, violets, reds and terra-cottas mingle in the sky,
pressed up against the eroded grey walls of this concrete paradise.

Conversations too far off in the distance to hear with my foreign ears.

5AM – reality jerks me.
Startled by a rude awakening so unforgiving;
runway lights irritate my eyes
as we land on white-infested asphalt.

“On behalf of Air Canada, we’d like to welcome you to Toronto.
Currently it is plus two degrees outside.
We hope you enjoy your stay.”