Chinatown Didactic

It's like... it's like...

a Chinese wilderness poem,

on a dusty scroll

in the knick-knack shop

off of Canal St.

It's that smell, and the jangle of a tarnished bell

on the crackled paint door.

A startled cat jumps off the book pile,

overturning a rosewood Buddha and green plastic beads.

Follow the nose, junk and treasure are tumbling clowns

waiting for the seamless enthusiasm

of collecting fingers or children seeking delights.

I look out on fat lazy flakes, and

can't do anything with this but

cry, 

it's all so simple,

the mental flavor of burnt sugar

caramelizing my lock tumbler

of Figuring and Scheming,

enhanced through the sweet pane.

Standing apart from the pulling and hauling,

all this cake icing lays its down comforter

on the scene.

My teachers pile up on the sill,

silent and bright and crystalline.

I am taken.