It’s too late in the season for mosquitoes
but warm enough to languish
in the twilight reflected from the bay.

I love how it illuminates the bouganvillea spilling
through the cyclone fence, bracts lighting up
like red paper lanterns on the Li River.

I hold my breath, picture myself swimming
underwater. Several minutes later, I surface
and sidestroke to a tiny drifting boat.

A pair of cormorants preeneing on the bow
salute my approach by entwining their necks.
The lime green buddha I once saw in a cartoon

is frying up the day’s catch, long earlobes
swaying with the rocking of the boat.
I haul aboard and sit cross-legged

beside the warm hibachi. Green Buddha’s
half-smile breake into a grin: Hey,
I’ve been expecting you — dinner’s almost ready.

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Squaw Valley Review, 2003