Either you are sorting it out, or you are full of it.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Crossing Pudong Nan Lu

On a fairly frozen evening in November

As the Shanghai lowlands fell towards freezing

We stood there wating to cross the road

We off-workers, going-homers,

Bearing home hopes and hatreds

To the curtained corridors

That we’d haltingly call home.

And in that moment everything was so calm:

Just us, our crosswalk

The great obelisks of Pudong vaulting higher

The ocher reaches of neon,

The soft hush of the city surrounding us.


I turned around to see this spectacle.

All of us quiet together now.


I thought I saw a girl murmuring incantations under her breath.

posted by ferret at 11:43 pm  

1 Comment »

  1. This Life, which seems so fair,
    Is like a bubble blown up in the air
    By sporting children’s breath,
    Who chase it everywhere

    Comment by WinchesterWing — September 8, 2010 @ 8:16 pm

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