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

“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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