Late Night Snack

I'm devastatingly hungry.
Those less of men will think me
frivolous for using such an adverb
lightly in the light of today's reality
but I do intend it with all my might,
that I'm hungry to the point of
being devastated by it.
There is a hole of unfathomable depth,
a hollow point that no tsunamis can
satiate, and I fill it with late night trips
to the hawker centers with 24/7 dim sum stall.

As I struggle with the tight knots of the steaming
hot plastic, a thought resonates,
of somebody who said something to a poet,
how they tried to create importance out of
nothing at all,
and here I am, in my kitchen, in the dark,
with two chicken feet and a pair of chopsticks,
and I ramble on - how self-centered, how
egoistic, how self-conscious are you to
think that this can be a poetry.

But I'm still devastated and hungry,
and those two don't mix well, ever since
I got the first whiff of that city far away,
from a woman's arm (or perhaps it was her hair),
and it reminded me of you.
Everything reminds me of you.
How funny, how silly,
I shall forget about this in the morning.
But just for the moment,
just now, I will eat and I will forget
you.