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The market at Yew Tee
Is a time machine of my childhood.

The wet market which my cousins
And I always tried to avoid
With the seemingly permanently muddy floor,
The pungent stench,
And the staring eyes of the fish
Like a haunting memory.

The nearby 7-Eleven
Was our asylum
With cooling air condition
And comparatively fresher air
Where we secretly browsed through
The collection of Pokemon comics.
(Apologising when told off by the cashier,
But going back another day.)

The supermarket was our playground
Collecting different lucky draw flyers
Folding them into paper airplanes
Throwing them past one another
Some getting stuck under shelves,
Others landing on the frozen section.

Sometimes we folded Crushgears
(We loved the show,
Used to watch it before
Our afternoon session lessons)
Flicking them on the floor
“If it flips over, you’re out!”

Three rowdy children
Sliding around in worn out flip flops
Three rowdy children
Racing towards the trolleys
Three rowdy children
Had the time of their lives
In the market at Yew Tee.

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