In between makan sini and da bao.
In between roti bilis and cheese naan.

I was asked 'is there something wrong?'
I'd say 'kuch nehi he, sir'
A friend asked 'it's quiet, isn't it?'
I'd be 'tada nanigenai hibi desu'

Bodo amat, baper, bangke, bangsat, tai!
I've fit them in my lines.
Horribly.

Jakarta loves sleeping in the morning.
While I love running before dawn.
I walk in circles waiting for it to wake up.

It loves curses.
I love poems.

How, somehow,
we both look like we're in love.