Ông Già
I learned from my sister that Ba has a tumor in his stomach.
Old man, ông già. He’s going deaf, he cannot sleep. Where does time go?
I get to the cleaners, and he doesn’t talk about it. He doesn’t know I know.
He’s tired, stares blankly at the store windows, waiting to go home.
I hug him. I can feel his labored breathing.
Why would God do this to him?
I don’t make enough money to take care of him. I need to find a way.
I don’t fear dying, but I would die a million times for him to not suffer like this.
I’m so sad.
What am I doing? I’m mourning a breathing man.



















