Pink Notebook

In the frames we spoke Mandarin

But someone ourside made English comments

on our every move, things we saw, places we visited

the way we were

 

In a hot summer day we traveled to a tourist spot

You were cranky. I was worried

 

about your motif to dig out my secrets.

I kept all of them in my pink notebook.

 

I tightly held it to my chest while we wandered

to some observatory by cliff; the ocean was below, the mountain light rail nearby

 

Our conversation was mostly trivial, always—

we never really wanted to understand each other

 

No matter how loose our communications could be, you still pried

and at times tried to steal my notebook

 

I was frustrated and angry. I fought back your bullying

But I also wondered why my life still mattered to you

 

The train came and I rushed to it.

I clung at the last car with a leg out dangling

 

You started to chased after the train, cursed me to the hell, but I didn’t give a damn

I was elated

 

Suddenly the pink notebook slipped through my arms

It felt on the rail, rolled to the side, jumped from the cliff, dived in the ocean

 

I panicked. I felt being ripped open

My intestines gyrated in the air

 

I bobbed out of the train, climbed down the cliff, tried to rescue my pink notebook.

Bystanders and passengers were dumbstruck by my action; they gossiped, criticized, and preyed for my ruthless decision

 

I finally crawled to the rocks and I spotted my buoying notebook

It was serenely ensconced in the fluid rocking chair

 

I was happy knowing the book was within the reach

I jumped in and swam toward it

 

The water felt cold yet refreshing

The sun was bright. The air was crisp

 

Yet my pink notebook was gone