“
i bring my kiasu friend to the airport
leavings are never easy, not for long
and though we both saw blur along the way
memories flooded present tensions.
in the curry of his life no lemak remained
so now the predictable exit signalled
the end of his roundings, his bombings–
he can bluff like hell, ma, he got style–
and left me thinking about home, my kampong.
”
”