e called you the “Chinky Chinaman,” not in
derision, but in love,
You were more anglo than us, playing hard at
life as a poker game,
Where you always filled inside straights with
your ancient wisdom, about
us roundeyes.

I never thought that life, the ultimate poker
game, would find you,
with your chips strewn like petalless flowers on
its table.

And as I came to that place where we met for
the last time,
Your words, "Seize the moments of eternity,"
drifted towards me as the anglo music gave a softness
to the black suited mourners.

We your friends, backgrounded our nascent culture
without the graciousness of your friends of ancient
custom,
But somehow we fused our worlds at your funeral
HENRY BEN QUAN.


   

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