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*Linfen bricolage*



The buildings outside our door which

create our courtyard and badminton court

are being gutted

windows    partitions    old chairs

brick walls     floor tiles

everything up and out

demolished each day

from dawn to dusk with

hand hammers and chisels

sledge-hammers and drills

walls now gape like skulls



In the dust and rubble

a workman with his Mao cap on

back of his head

hammers old nails into

demolition wood to

create his own ladder -

a ragged 'z' pattern between

two pieces of wood nailed in

at an angle as each new step -

nothing 'true' but

his spirit was on the level:

*waste not, want not*



As I pass I smile

and tap a step -

'Solid!' I say. 'Ni hao'

he grins and replies

in a Linfen dialect

of dust and stoicism





*Duet*



As I walked out late yesterday

along the campus road to the gate

among pedestrians going

both ways hither and thither

I heard a trained cultured voice –

male, operatic –

singing quietly to itself,

'Maria, Maria' then Mandarin lyrics.

I couldn't understand

so I asked him 'You sing "Maria"?'

He shook his head wildly.

I said, 'You know, "Maria" from

*West Side Story* ...' he shook

his head some more – so I sang on

and he joined me and we sang

down the road to the gate,

my English 'Maria' and his Chinese song.

At the gate, between smiling sentries,

I tapped him on the shoulder and said,

'Same melody has got me thinking

it's the same bloody song, pal!'