This chatter in China, whole vowels
Toned tautly, characters clipping
Through air dense as cotton
And I, lao wai, walk, head bowed,
Parsing the threads of unknown
Tongues and climates, picking up
Rinds of meaning, their zest obvious,
Their seeds a mystery.
Here, they stare as hawks at prey,
But I've stopped expecting differently,
Delighting instead in the widened eyes,
Slightly parted lips of wonder.
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