A Parable for an Asian-American Kid
By Christina Jeng

And she told this parable:

A certain young girl,
Chinese, Wenzhou province,
Sat riding a bus
She spoke into her cell phone,
Her heavy accent cutting
The silence
She ignored
The cricking of sidelong glances,
The tsking of curled lips, and
The snapping of newspaper
Pages turning.

Now an old woman,
With a flower print design,
Enveloping her body
Like a plague,
Shuffled onto the bus.
Lifting a claw-like hand,
Small, rigid, and
Empty. Her eyes
Began the work of begging,
For she had no token to ride.

Cleared throats cleared again
Papers were perused once more
Playback buttons re-pressed to replay

Then the young girl
Still cutting across oceans
Still ignoring the din of their day
Placed a token
Into the grasping hands
Of an old woman
Ashamed.