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

Thursday, March 5, 2009

To Shanghai (一个老外去银行)

There was a time when I would sit by your banks,

In awe at the characters, pronouncing “silvered strings.”

You were a riddle, an ambiguous shape-shifting beast

That stretched and burned for the sky.

I thought that living inside you long enough,

I wouldn’t look at myself in the mirror and utter “old” or “foreign.”

The riddle has been solved. How wrong I was.

posted by ferret at 11:30 am  

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