Running the gauntlet of traffic
on Beijing's crazy ways
I walk down silk corridors
ties like multi-cultural flags
flapping commniques from
late capitalism
before turning left into
a taxi parked slantwise across the road
The Mandarin was
decipherable - Huh?
Which road? Where?
What's it off? Here there was
no need for a translator,
the language of this traffic
like a cryptic crossword
over a Naked Lunch.
Now I look out at a foggy
Beijing evening, English
chatter in the loungeroom,
blues on the sound system,
maids mumbling Mandarin,
me whispering this
sign language through
cyberspace.
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
http://www.bam.com.au/andrew
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