The Filipino maid pushes a wheelchair, which is loaded
With an old lady who appears to be recovering from a stroke,
As if she is pushing a cart of the thickest coldness out of last night.
Looks like she is definitely below 18.
I ride slowly in the morning fragrance and colors,
After dropping off my kid at his school gate who is much higher than her.
When I turn my head, her straying eyes catch mine;
That meeting of eyes is too short to mean any communication.
I turn my head again, feeling an acute shame
For the thought that someday
She would grow as old as her employer.
September 10, 2008