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Secret Asian Man
A Poem by Nick Carbó

He's given a number,
he's given a new name,
he's given an automatic pistol,
he's given a license to kill.

He could be Chinese, Nepalese,
Cambodian, Timorese, Laotian,
Indonesian, Burmese, or Thai.

He can kick higher than Jackie Chan,
he can be as devious as Dr. Fu Man Chu,
he can speak better English than Charlie Chan,
and he can even make a great pot of Moo Goo Gai Pan.

He could be Korean, Japanese,
Singaporean, Malaysian, Tibetan,
Vietnamese, or from Brunei.

He'll torture you with drops of water between the eyes,
shove bamboo strips under your nails, then dip them in iodine.
He'll torture you by tying you up in a wicker chair,
make you watch endless reruns of Kung Fu with David Carradine.

He's given a number,
he's given a new name,
he's given an automatic pistol,
he's given a license to kill.


Reprinted by permission of Nick Carbó




   
   
   
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