1:1

Mangoes

The frail old man rearranges the fruit
and adjusts the sign
"three for a dollar."
(This much I can read.)
You tell me that the character means apple,
but I have already figured this out
by the simple sight
of those round red balls
piled atop one another.

But the next is not so clear.
"Mangoes," you say.
And the man selects
the reddest one
(as red as deep lipstick)
and quarters it to reveal its flesh.
Then he mumbles something
in your native tongue
which makes you both laugh,
but I try it anyway.

And I find it smooth and the texture sweet.
So we buy one and take it to Columbus Park
where we sit among the playful children
and the elders reading their China Dailys.
We take out our lunch
which you slice with a pocket knife,
kiss me before saying,
"He was only kidding."


Curtis Chin






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© 1991 Asian American Writers' Workshop