Night Market

When the night curtain falls,
the crowd start to assemble
as if drawn by magnets,
as if answering a scared call.

Neon lights go up along the narrow pavements,
illuminating the concentrating faces of food-sellers.
Under boiling noodle pots and roasting lamb skewers,
grey charcoal gives off a warm, red glow. Above it,
food aroma lingers in the sticky air.

Next to the stalls people sit around in twos and threes.
Their hands are waving, and their faces are turning red.
As food and alcohol slide down into the stomach. Laughter
becomes as strong as the rice wine they drink.

Late into the night, the stalls are busy
as ever. The clock hands slow down
and happiness is stretched thin and long.