Sleep-deprived at five

When the shopping carts halt
at midnight four Filipinos start fishing
for Chinese characters faced down
clacks continue to precipitate from the north
tiles tack to tabletop
in rows to be torn as soon as
tiles stack in the south
terraces sit timid to the monsoon

At five am
my mother’s Tagalog is muted amid
the shuffling mahjong tiles
taking a clacking tile to tile
tile to manicured and beaten nail alike.

I hold up five fingers
when they ask how old I am
I stare at the floor vinyl
recording pinoys droning
I cannot sleep churning
their fingers in the pile of blocks
popping in thick frying oil
empty shopping carts jerk and skirt
a gravel parking lot
mama is stacking poker chips
tucking me in she is not.