Crossing Pudong Nan Lu
On a fairly frozen evening in November
As the Shanghai lowlands fell towards freezing
We stood there wating to cross the road
We off-workers, going-homers,
Bearing home hopes and hatreds
To the curtained corridors
That we’d haltingly call home.
And in that moment everything was so calm:
Just us, our crosswalk
The great obelisks of Pudong vaulting higher
The ocher reaches of neon,
The soft hush of the city surrounding us.
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I turned around to see this spectacle.
All of us quiet together now.
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I thought I saw a girl murmuring incantations under her breath.