tom soup prompt

no belief in the LDR

i do not believe in mr. chin
who lives in the fierce lion city
with his family on the balmy outskirts
of singapore, number ten-sixty-two
jurong road. a palm fringed avenue
among the bananas and mango groves.
i do not believe in the red tricycle
upended in the yard and his slender wife
passing him his briefcase while he tousels
the jet bangs of their issues before
taking the expressway to work where he counts
and reckons, the facts and the tally
i do not believe the cab is yellow.

i do not believe in mr. chin
i do not think i have ever met him
nor him me. we haven't passed unknowingly
in the street. he never turned and smiled
as i apologised; we did not brush shoulders.
nor do i believe i've ever thanked him when
he took my arm and, asking is this yours?
returned my wallet. i do not believe i dropped it.

i do not believe in mr. chin. he is there
but we have never met. he is elsewhere
he is not of my world nor i of his but
if at some time our paths cross again
things may be different. but for now
i do not believe in mr. chin.

i believe in mrs. meacher, as she tends her garden
i see from my window her wonderous place
as she caresses the vibrant heads with gentle
grace, the ginger tom rubbing its face to and fro
without a hint of intolerance, the way she lets him go
i hear her from my garden as she sings, not for me
she doesn't understand favourites, and chooses no one
i believe mrs. meacher lives at number nine
and i believe this: it's next door to mine.


this is no.3 in a trilogy of poems about my personal relationships with god. i wrote these a few days after experiencing an odd feeling while driving home, i could not say it wasn't a damascene moment or enlightenment, but i doubt this very much.

for those not familiar with personals problem pages, LDR is shorthand for long distance relationship