Geoff Shōun O’Keeffe
Old Hanoi celebrates one thousand years on these muddy banks.
Palm trees drip condensed fog, reflected in the glassy lake.
The city oozes sticky humid haze.
Scooters and motorbikes surge like salmon spawn.
Everyone but me has thick black hair and dark eyes.
I am conspicuous by size and complexion.
Men my age were here before under different circumstances.
Most here are too young to remember.
The elders have a different look in their eyes.
They smile easily and have a kindness about them.
I may love this place.
I want to tell them I am sorry.
Maybe all that is required is to simply see and feel.