The City of Mr. Wong

San Francisco

City of many stories

City of many songs

City of many legends

City of many moons


City of Mr. Wong


Now, don’t get me

Wrong, but old man

Wong was cool


And this ain’t no

Poem about Mr. Wong

Having gold in his teeth,

Dust on his shoes or mountains

Carved into his shoulders


Ain’t seen Mr. Wong in

Many moons, what ever

Became of him?


We were security guards

Together in a warehouse


Mr. Wong had worked

There a long time, he was

Very old, the oldest security

Guard I’d ever seen


He had so much seniority

That he could get away with

Being out of uniform—which

Included pajama bottoms,

Kung fu slippers and a wool

Sweater with faded argyle stitching


Topped with security guard hat


He had one good ear that

Could hear better than



Mr. Wong never

Scolded me, he

Schooled me in

security scrutiny


“Don’t trust that guy” he’d say,

“he drinks like a fish”




“Don’t put rubbers in

Your back pocket because

They’ll melt”


And Mr. Wong had moist

Eyes that squeezed, never



And he saw

It all very clearly


Especially those

Many moons


© 2016 Tony Robles




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