prompted | outside the window.

cars pass, honk, zipping to places unknown
the double-parked one receives hushed whispers and
disapproving looks from the aunties
clad in matching blue and white stripes and billowy sleeves
an attempt to make middle-aged shopkeepers
of a commercialised traditional Chinese medicine brand look 'cute'

knock knock knock
the building never seems to be done with its
endless, long-drawn construction
speculation of what it is supposed to be
has turn into indifference - does it matter anyway?
clank clank clank

teenagers strapped down with backpacks
and stacks of textbooks burdened with expectations
of their typically Asian parents who refuse to
accept that their children are not Einsteins
(but wait - Einstein was a terrible student, wasn't he?)
goodness knows if Einstein would've benefited
from daily lessons from uninterested part-timers
in tuition centres who pack fifty bored teenagers
into a white-washed room that smells of markers
(which is heavenly, i must guiltily admit)

what am i even doing anyway, writing a 'poem'
that has no rhyme, no structure, no lyrical lift
about the view outside my window when i'm actually
not even looking out the window at all?
all i'm doing is staring at a screen,
pretending to be pretentious (Lang Leav, who?)
only writing about the bustling street that is Jalan Radin Bagus
purely from memory
purely out of the years i've spent here
and not because i see it
outside the window.