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Once from China - by nate


the night or the day this semblance of sleep its contingent perchances and the 同事 she dances and uv's everywhere you go, so everything's green, or in the wind, which is cold.

until last week the weather'd been identical for seven, maybe eight (north for some rites some days past) weeks, no rain, no changes in temperature, clouds crowding the same spots a the sky seven days solid, ergo no sense a the passing a time, no matter what else (this, this too) might pass; christmas comes and, in my mind, it's still june, months before things being shoved in bags and senseless security searches and red eyes outta la and conversions from 公里 to 英公里 on oversized underlit projection tvs en route to that eternal point b from the point a that is me.

bad mando/cantopop cover of mandy (no, really) that is everywhere, 刘德华 video from for fucking ever ago that if anywhere is toomanywhere, waitresses that wear jeans under leather/vinyl skirts, skinned dogs hanging in glass boxes like some kinda bacon background, but his foregrounded pope just some guy in chef's whites selling mutton and 'foresaid dog, and maybe noodles too if you're up for that, and chili and jinwei everywhere else.

live dogs in the street, which is weirder than dead dogs in windows. rederiving the quadratic equation which, i dont know why, i refuse to commit to memory. a cell phone but no batteries. the wind when one walks.

the kick a the bass and she smiles.

come the revolution i retire.