Cilame St.
just a moment ago

            a baby of soya bean

            gliding, tumbling

            over the pavement

before a passing pedicab

ran her over to death
the worn-out vehicle the old market traders

used all the time, its paint peeled up

thanks to the raining salt

the sweaty hands of travellers

            always asking, pointing
at nearby shabby storerooms

at that close-to-collapse haunted house

at the trash bags from the temple next-door 
Cilame came to us as a forgotten museum

like a thief, she hid herself from the hands of time

slipped into the smallest of alleys

borrowed the face of a scared sewer rat

or the wail of a boy worker:

            the neglected regret rising again and again
peeled hastily

the pineapples over there

were cats full of fleas:

jumped to a basket and another

swooped up to a roof, spied

on the fishes swimming

in boiling oil

then landed in a random travelogue

by the unknowing eyes

of another tourist

another amateur journalist
A grandpa in a warung

suddenly waved to you

offering a miracle drug

to kill all kinds of old-age forgetting
And this is Cilame now:

a fading scent of sweet black soy sauce

slowly seeping into cracks on the wall

pushing through and through

until it reaches the future

nobody remembers


Jalan Cilame
Baru saja sebutir kedelai

            meluncur bergulingan

sebelum roda seorang tukang becak

menggilasnya pecah berserak
Becak tua langganan pedagang pasar lama

kelupas catnya tersebab basuhan hujan garam

juga keringat tangan para pelancong

            yang tak henti menunjuk bertanya:

pada gudang begitu kumuh

rumah berhantu separuh rubuh

dan timbunan sampah wihara sebelah
Cilame seketika bagai museum terlupa;

ibarat pencuri, sembunyi dari kejaran waktu

menyelinap di gang-gang kecil

menyamar tikus tanah, coro yang lemah

atau ratap sedu seorang kuli bocah

            lalai abainya disesali berkali-kali
Nanas-nanas dikupas sekenanya

seperti kucing penuh kutu

melompat dari keranjang ke keranjang

menukik naik ke atap, mengincar remah ikan goreng

lalu hinggap dalam catatan perjalanan

sekilas tinjauan mata

dari satu wisatawan, atau wartawan amatiran
Seorang kakek penunggu warung

melambai pelan padamu

sambil menawarkan obat mujarab

buat halau kepikunan usia renta
Tapi inilah cilame sekarang:

sisa aroma kecap kedelai hitam

yang meresap ke celah dinding

menyusup hingga ke masa depan

tak seorang pun kuasa mengingatnya