walking home from the library

walking home from the library

walking home from the library
on a Saturday afternoon
as the gold sky to set
with my two younger brothers
books in our backpacks

we passed by Skateworld
music and laughs filtered
through the tinted windows
floors that can spin
and feet that skim through space
was a mystery to us

we passed by Vien Dong Supermarket
watermelons, mangoes, coconuts, dragon fruits
sprawled in open crates
in front of the entrance
as customers hunched over to interrogate them
as if they were newly docked crabs and lobsters

we passed by Rite Aid
fingering the coins in our pockets
found under the mat of mom's sewing table
in to exchange for a scoop of ice cream
vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry
a quarter each
we licked the creamy sweet
and held on our cones tightly
like the books in our backpacks

the sky, now orange red
casting a backdrop
as we walked through the duplexes
mustard yellow splashed on plastered walls

a cluster of young boys squatted
on brown patches of grass
playing cards under the weeping willow
while their older brothers smoking
and cursing maybe too loud in front of their clunkers
out-competing the washers spinning the last cycle
in the laundry room
strong detergent mixed with pungent fish sauce
wafted through our path

a toddler, barefoot,
sitting on a stoop,
grabbing a bowl rim with his fingers
spooning out the rice
chewing and kicking his feet in the air

we stopped and knocked
grandma greeted us at the door
and warm dinner was waiting for us