Mr. Fun got old very quickly.
His hair went gray.
He didn’t laugh into his soup anymore.
His son had to remind him,
wash your face, Dad, comb your hair.
He never stayed up late,
nor made another model out of newspaper.
Anything that broke he left broken.
Little Weng stopped thinking about university
because his father could not sell vegetables without assistance.
They measured time through old rituals and new ones
forced upon them by absence.