Tin Wisdom

We’re all very tired in this
nearly empty Chinese restaurant
so late on a Sunday night,
me and the balding, grunting man
awaiting his food to go.
There is no
music
and the silence is
golden,
like tiny tin dragons
on a string
choosing not to clink in
a closed
Chinatown department store-
as the waitress brings my hot food
and looks down at this page
and then at my face and asks
“study?”
and I say
“Yes.”