Uncut Scallions

[Verse 1]
The red vinyl on booth number three
Is peeling back, you know, since 'ninety-three.
I trace the crack with my thumb after close,
The whole world's quiet as a winter rose.
The air's still thick with basil and steam,
A leftover piece of an old Mekong dream.

[Chorus]
I never asked you 'bout the rains,
The kind that fall and wash away the names.
I should've asked you, Ba, while I had the chance,
Just left that question in a sideways glance.

[Verse 2]
Your Lộc Thọ calendar's stuck on July,
Beneath a fly strip hanging bone-dry.
I found your knife behind the pickle jars,
Still sharp enough to carve a field of stars.
You'd tap the counter, say "good bone make good soup,"
Trapped all your wisdom in that little loop.

[Chorus]
I never asked you 'bout the rains,
The kind that fall and wash away the names.
I should've asked you, Ba, while I had the chance,
Just left that question in a sideways glance.

[Bridge]
The water in the canals out by the 99 runs low,
And there's a language in the silence I'm too slow to know.

[Outro]
Like a bowl of pho with uncut scallions...
Just a little green thing left undone.