Malaysia Long Ago

stars, above swirling dark, in sky drained of color, below, sprawling Asia, spread out in a carpet, of billboards and humanity. watching it all from the world's largest tower, feeling like a king in a secondhand sky, now walking among streets, stalls, and stooped shoulders, inhaling foreign vapors. smoke from cheap cigarettes drift down, to mingle with scents from open gutters, fecund and flowing, past medicine shops of tiger teeth, and ginseng root. stopping at a rusted fence, marking neglected graves tilted, borders to a rotting mansion, colonial memories of plague and accident. further on, the well lit ship, clean and efficient, up the gangway to the duty, crisp in his ice cream suit, down to the well deck, amber lit and heavy in humid air, peering down at armored beetles, emitting odors of oil and exhaust, cordite and purpose, and briefly catch a sad sentiment, fluttered in night air above, of what was and what could be, lost in blood, power and tribal lust, our racial fait accompli, and draw back from thoughts such as these, and let it fly away.