Before I see anything. Before I assemble into a direction in which to be seen. Closed curtains, yellow light, the fan sighing on.

This morning I dreamed about a bookish friend, awkwardly agreeing to kiss in the cabin of his boat. Convenience and the admission of long held half hearted
& slowly pulling away his clothing to reveal a chest - muscled and tanned like a young athlete! We've been *surfing*? Well, okay, sure, continue.

To write in the morning, mid-morning, late morning. When I haven't seen anything, been anything, when I don't know who for. An amoeba looking for an eye. Moving and waiting. Waiting for Friday next to be a beginning. Downpayment on a fantasy. As in going to a maid cafe, like that. Empty seats.

Last night I waited again in the queue. She said 'don't need wait again in the queue, just look for me' but I waited. And again, just before I got to the counter someone just walked in past the queue and began. Bangladeshi guy wanted to know about his parcel. Round face, patient, impassive, wanting. When did you send it? December?
December. 22.
24? Will not come yet! Wait two weeks, not come, come here, with your form!
22.
Where is your form? I give to you before! Come here, always asking asking, no form! Go home, fill out form, two weeks, not arrived, come back!

Stands there, doesn't move away, waits.  Round face, acne, quiet eyes. The post office man smiles harder and harder, doesn't stop smiling, voice gets louder, agitated, deeper into Singlish, bits of Mandarin. Sender looks from his parcel receipt to the empty form. Slowly, back and forth, one to the other. Stays at the counter and waits.