I wrote this when I was missing Vietnam. I tried to fuse some metaphors that made me think of Viet Nam with living in Phillips, i.e. the metaphor of the street flowing into a delta is a reference to the Me Kong Delta. A cyclo is basically a rickshaw on a bicycle, so the drivers pedal you around instead of dragging your lazy exploitive First World ass. Waiting for a Cyclo in the Hood 26th Street, a one way, flows by my house, keeps going right out of the hood, before spilling into Uptown: fertile delta of the young, disturbingly hip, rich by no fault of their own, nothing to do on a Saturday night but be beautiful. I sit on the curb, far from lovely, empty pocket's distance from rich, wishing I knew which way to go. Back in Viet Nam I could shout for a Cyclo, hold up a fist of small dong, peel each dollar from the tension of my hand and let them fly away to the Doppler Effect, one by one, scream the words to Prince's '1999' in two languages and not once look behind me to see if the cyclo driver was whispering: this street is one way, I can't take you back to where you came from, no matter how many American dollar bills you give up to the wind. 1997

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