Softly then loudly from corner to corner, then
Bouncing from sidewalks to buildings and billboards that
Glow from the hum of pink neon vibrations, this
City smells hot from the rot of decay from the
Vegetables lying in alleys that twist from my
Sight to the shadows that hang by the hinges of
Night's humid cloak draped over this fading sad
Laughter, for these are the last days of my time in
Shanghai, the Land that gave birth to the yearning to
Swallow all life has to offer, the chirping, the
Shrieking of green trees, the chirping, the shrieking
