There goes the wit wit wit of the bird’s call “Zhe ge dong xi” Foreign murmurs The creak of the ceiling fan Clatters of various keyboards Breath blown across the surface of hot coffee A cacophony Under the sign that has a finger to its…

Red heels, body balanced above. Red dress, fits just like a glove. Red lips, seething with lust. Red rubies, slipped in the secret of my bust. Red flag, beckoning. Red silk sheets, decorate our night, into morning.