Monsoon History vs Arrival of Spring

The air is wet, soaks,
Into mattresses and curls,
In apparitions of smoke. (oh, people here smoke a lot)
Like fat white slugs furled
Among the timber,
Or sliver fish tunneling
The damp linnen covers
Of schoolbooks, or walking (it was like 7 years ago?those elementary moments *fondness*)
Quitely like centipides,
The air walking everywhere
On its hundreds feet
Is filled with the glare
Of tropical water (er, in my current situstion, I'd rather address it as pre spring Bohemian weather)

Again we are taken over
By clouds and rolling darkness.
Small snails appear (haven't spot one here)
Clashing their timid horns
Among the morning glory (morning glory, adakah itu bunga yg slalu ku petik utk main msk2 zmn rambut kontot muka betepek bedak dolu2?)
Vines.

Drinking Milo, (yes!yes!yes!)
Nyonya and Baba sit at home.
This was forty years ago. (and now, it's 9 years into the millenium)
Sarong-wrapped they counted
Silver paper for the dead, (and me, trying my best to sound Czech)
Portraits of grandfathers (with portraits of male reproductive organs)
Hung always in the parlour. (in between the notes populated table)
Reading Tennyson at six (and me, reading Platzer at 10 p.m.)
p.m. in pajamas, (also in pajama)
Listening to down-pouring
rain; the air ticks
With gnats, black spiders fly, (the temperature is too cold for these insects to fly)
moths sweep out of our room
where termites built
their hills of eggs and queen zooms
In heat.
We wash our feet
For bed, watch mother uncoil (sob,sob,sob-mine is across continents, probably taking care of the household breakfast right now)
Her snake hair, unbuckle (and me don't even know how she looks like now)
The silver mesh around her waist,
Waiting for father pacing (ha,yelah 2,my abah, he must be hanging the laundry right now)
The sands as fishers pull
From the Straits after monsoon.

The air is still, silent
Like sleepers rocked in the pantun, (owh, suddenly remember the very first pantun in my life*)
Sheltered by Malacca (er, I've never been to Malacca)
This was forty years ago,
When nyonya married baba.
By Shirley Geok-lin Lim
Crap stripes by yours truly.

* The first pantun that I learn.
It was back in elementary.
Maybe when I was in Darjah 1, my BM teacher asked each one of us to come up with a
pantun the very next day
I went home and asked my abah what a pantun is
And asked him to give me a pantun
I wrote the pantun down
And gave it to my teacher

This is my first pantun :
Limau purut tiga serangkai
Buta perut tiada akai

Nah, now u tell me whoever have ever come up with something like that
Such a great help from my dad
He obviously have no idea how straight his daughter is
I was like when people ask me to just leave my maths problems unanswered if I don't know how to solve it,
I did just like what I was told
And I got selibas hanger for that
I was like that
I don't remember my teacher reaction though
Ironically, dumb me, I thought my pantun was a good one
Since everybody else's pantun sound the same
Teka-teki teka tekuk,
Ular mati dalam mangkuk

or
Teka-teki teka tekuk,
Ular mati dalam periuk