The China Experience

Photo by Pascal Müller on Unsplash

Eating In Yiwu China

I look for a restaurant with english

and if I can’t find one I look for at least menu pictures on the wall

until I find one with price numbers printed in the corners

and then walk in and point on the wall and give the money

and see what comes out.


Hemisphere Strangers

on the top of leifeng pagoda up seven flights of stairs

an old chinese man looking half mummified already

huffs his way slowly to the top bracing his cane on each step

and arrives finally at the highest floor and laughs at himself

and taps his cane on the ground a couple satisfied times

and sees me a young american sharing the view

and he smiles at me and says something and beams

and I smile back and point and smile again

and he wanders off to the other side another cardinal direction view

and I wonder which is more beautiful

the horizon of topographical serenity

or that both of us hemisphere strangers

might today share it.


Polluted Poetry

the haze in china is such that the ancient mythical view

of the autumnal moon on the calm still lake top

poetically described as one of ten timeless scenes in west lake

is quite the satirical joke.


Longjing Tea Fields

the tea fields wrapped around the wooded hillsides

in every direction from the village the taxi dropped us off in

my hostel friends from holland and portugal

and we started walking further down the road

looking for the least unsympathetic trail

winding across a brook and into the rows of longjing bushes

and half a mile later dark clouds descended

from the neighbor mountains and the watering began

and too far from the village to run we chose the hills

and their trees for cover and the trail turned muddy

the rocks got slick and the moss thick and the soil pungent

and our clothes were soon soaked brushing against the tea leaves

and I helped miss dutch up a set of tall stone steps

and mr. portuguese scouted ahead

to try and find the best umbrella branches

and the rain was kind enough to wait to thicken

until after we were concealed

and we examined the damage to our passports in our pockets

and I found a plastic bag amidst the tea farmer rubbish

and wrapped up our border papers tight

and we sat down on upturned littered plastic soup bowls

and mr. portugal got out his chinese smokes

and for the three of us spontaneous travelers alone

the soggy hill exhaled its verdant ancient secrets.


American Sugar

two older chinese tourists in the station

on a trip together to see a bit more of their country

before they’re too frail to leave their village again

sit in the train station aghast

at the humongous american business man

bigger than them put together

eating a pack of cakes meant for a family’s week

the first one in only one bite

two and he licks his fingers

and pokes around at the buildup of dough

stuck in his molars

three

four and licks his fingers again

and washes down his icing deliveries with a cherry coke

and he closes the cap and eats number five

and then he chokes a bit and hacks a piece of fruit filling

out on his fist which he then licks off

and starts number six and seven right after

more cherry coke eight and another finger licking

nine and finally ten and the box is empty

and down goes the rest of the soda

and the old woman looks away to a child playing nearby

but the old man cannot look away his face displaying clues to his disgust

as the american’s fingers dive deep into his throat again

so he can lick off the sweet residue to his knuckles

one digit at a time until satisfied every milligram of sugar

has been dissolved onto his tongue

and the american gets up and throws away his trash

and the old man turns to the giggly child as well

until the american comes back with another bottle of soda for the ride.

the old man thought about his youth

and spending years always a little hungry on the family farm

during his childhood years of collectivized farming

and how the american might have just consumed more sugar

in ten minutes than his parents had in their entire lives.


Miracle In Hangzhou

a cramp is coming on uh oh.

did the pointing method of tapping entree pictures

on the restaurant wall guessing at ingredients

or maybe some soup filled with tap water

finally catch up to my large intestine?

oh boy it’s coming and I need a bathroom fast

where where where?

I find one just at my bowels’ zenith squeeze

but it’s a hole and crouch bathroom so not ideal

and no toilet paper in the stall

this won’t do I’m going to need toilet paper

I turn to try another stall and the cramp gets somehow worse

there’s no time I no longer have a choice

and I go back in and close the door

fumble of course desperately with the lock

and as I pull down my pants and crouch

on the way down it’s fire in the hole

and I flush real quick

it’s close to natural disaster proportions

and all of a sudden every gland on my body is expelling sweat

and bowel round two hits immediately after

reminding me I am not in control

and the sweat pours down my face as my legs start to cramp

and I think it’s over and am relieved at last

and wipe my sweaty face on my sleeve

relieved I got my pants down in time

and I pull them up slowly not too close to skin

I have never missed any american custom more

than public toilet paper

and I waddle to the sink and wash my hands

and waddle outside the bathroom

and outside on the wall I see a miracle

a paper towel dispenser for a few coins

and the transaction gets me ten sheets

and I waddle back to my hole and clean up

what a relief

and I reflect on how much worse the ordeal could have been

and the job requires all ten tissues rationed strategically

and instead of swamp dripping down my cheeks

and smearing on my clothes

I’m only chafing as I walk the rest of the night.


Travel Young

I stay at hostels to meet the most random people

and tonight did not disappoint

a chilean guy and a nepalese girl

a singaporean guy and a swiss guy

and we drank beers and became the best of temporary friends

and shared stories of homes all across the world

and we never even exchanged names.

and in the next city

a serbian bartender makes me cocktails she’s developing

and an australian with a frenchman friend say they want one too

and a canadian student on her semester abroad tries mine

and my roommates from england and malaysia arrive

and buy the next round.


America Distilled

after three weeks abroad in the east

I’m trying to get things back together

while a chinese cold I got from an airplane neighbor’s constant coughing

declares a siege and my immuno generator needs a cranking

so my cupboard is my guru and in the dim light

a shine like orleans destiny glints off the bottle glass

of a kentucky bourbon whiskey reserve

exactly what this moment calls for

some american can-do spirit to cleanse my insides

and the bottle has gotten low

but evenings such as tonight are why

I save the last binge for when I’ll really need it

on a night I’ll know when I see it

and the occasion has at last called

for finishing the final ounces.


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