The alleyways bustle with vendors, people and flies. The swirling I am afraid is of tortoise shell in my noodle soup.
The luster of baubles from muddied Evian and purses of fake leather,the glossy Gucci emblem fixed. Haggle.
Starbucks coffee and the touristy tea houses bussed with expatriate dialects of the west.
The spit, the smoke, the smog, the drunken live shrimp tattered.
I am humming the Mandarin flavors - fried bees and chicken feet. Twirl the metal chopsticks.
Wet market of quail eggs and bloodied fish head, the pseudo leather boots in winter, the naked summer hairless chest.
The ubiquitous face mask,non-existent fortune cookies,
I am so not local....
Speech bound by five tones and government sermons.
My Mandarin instructor eulogizes the official calligraphy. Conform!
Sipping hong cha, bites of Confucius nibbles, monopolizing Tibet with made in China Dalai Lama.
Rosy communist palettes of Chairman Mao. Stinky tofu! It's a portrait of Barack Obama !
The American littering of dragon landscape with cheesy pizzas and portly burgers.
The micro blogger anonymously tweets of Sunday strolls and jasmine. Gagged.
The China construction as the new backdrop, poorly made commodities at world’s dollar stop.
The modern sky scrapers peer down, squinting at minuscule past. The factories incessantly fume, it’s permanently overcast.
The Huangpu drifts with communist precision, the mythical blue skies, the capitalist pollution.
Shanghaied !
copyright : Pehchhan
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