Batman, Ting, and Sport


the holy trinity, the rule of thirds

a magic number

The boys squat, face forward, together

but they look in different directions

One left, one right, and the third, straight down.

Two older gentlemen, only their feet visible behind the boys, share a smoke and lean on their motorbikes

being the fourth and fifth in this scene, they’re irrelevant.

This one is about the young.

The three.

Batman, the vigilante, ready to take arms, defend his brothers, fight for justice. Towel over shoulder, wide brim shadowing, bare knees hovering over sandals, eyebrows raised, at attention

heads up, boys

Ting, he’s all glue, calm reserve. Prepared for what’s to come and confident in his plan. He rests, elbows atop knees. Checkered mask secured to his ear and readied under his chin. The centre of attention, he radiates out. There’s a plan, and intent, and purpose, with Ting.

we’re good

He knows he’s cool.

And Sport?

Well, now, Sport.

He’s the wild card. Offering the best protection and the greatest warmth. Head bowed, but he’s not broken. He picks at his nail idly, hood enveloping his thoughts, just heating up for the next act. He’s the source of comfort. And comic relief.

make me laugh, Sport

The boys squat, facing forward, together

But they look in different directions


As I take in this three,

so awake,

so here,

so now

I realize that there was a time

when I knew what they know

when I saw what they see



I slow down

take a breath,

and try to decide whose gaze I should follow

Published by Radutti

Teaching in Ha Noi, screwing things up daily but surviving to write about it. ...everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine here now, thank you. How are you?

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