It's not even romantic
But I'm going to write a poem of every boy I met.Not romantic,
It's not that I had met a lot of men.

On that morning
you played ukulele,
I sang along with the lyrics
Creep, Blur,anything

The morning light shined through your squinted eyes
I can still see the dust swirling, dancing in front of the sun-bathed face of yours.
Naive,friendly,happily
We were singing to each other
The other two are non-existence.

You are so warm, comfortable to be around with
A Belarusian boy ,aspiring to speak good Chinese.
You paint, you cooked and made desserts
Always at ease at hitchhiking
through Kazakhstan and China

I felt that you secretly want to try to escape from what you had
from Belarus to Czech, then to this mysterious Eastern world, a bit communist.
And then to Taiwan.

This is for you Ilya, a friend for only a day and night.
You're too delicate for me to handle as you have
skin like milk and heart of seven seas
Smile like a 5 year old in a swing.