POC or the path not taken

sebastian nguyet snow

the sun is out, 

and my friend turns to me

their brownness rolling

off of them, 

and ask whether they look too white 

and i can’t help

but stare through a mirror

but pass right through a wall 

but say

“you look like the last piece of sky

before night falls”

everyday 

i find my own hands 

i touch my own toes like

do i look too white?

vietnamese tour guide

calls me a banana

i guess he is right

if i need to be talking to him at all

my mom slips through the cracks

of what she should look like

she says maybe her family is just

less vietnamese

her family says

she is just more american

my boyfriend sits by the fire,

and i watch the flames 

light up the red dye in his hair

he had to announce his non-whiteness

but even when we met, it felt like a current flowing

through us, 

like our color belongs to us

no matter how we excuse it

the train isn’t busy

me, a couple floaters, 

and a happy family.

the dad is white,

but his kids look like me,

i wonder what

they’ll be mistaken for,

what all the shit

those white people say 

half asian kids look like 

anything that they want

half asian kids like me

look like nothing at all