So quickly
our age sprawled
to twice we were
when we met.
This morning I wonder
where you are,
think of the lung
that used to give you trouble.

We have trickled
to long diverged roots
of roots.
I hear your name on
strangers' lips. They say,
you are in Shanxi Express,
People's Daily,
papers that I no longer read.

There must have been important
exchanges
between us but I do not
remember,
with our motherland
hovering over our shoulders,
what could have possibly
been said other than cultural
renaissance,
social reforms...

One among many friends,
you came to figure as
a silent onlooker
in my phantom sphere.
I almost glanced for your
approval
when I bit into my slice
of apple pie under a foreign
tree,
cast my snatching smile
to unsuspecting youth.

In my dreams you are not
the handshaking clown that I
imagine
you are now, but always a
hunch-backed
question mark.
With amusement, I recall
you once wrote " I hear leaves
crumble under my feet,
alas, it is almost unbearable
to live..."