Chinatown

Oh you exotic beauty,
all you do is satiate
my tactile lusts
with
fluid language
that caress my
uncomprehending ears.

The culinary wafts
and waves through the
olfactory...
but the music,
that sweet tune,
pure ehru funk.

My mind is on fire
set to the tune
of one gamboling
soundwave
after another.

The colorful banners
come to vivid
reviviscence
through the
power of such
words unspoken:
unadulturated
instrumental power.

And people pass
each other
without space
to dance!

The pavement
beneath the
countless legs
move and groove
to the senses
science may say
cobblestone lack,

but truly Mother
is rejuvinated
through this cultural
union of
soul foods.

Chinatown,
far from the Homeland,
sing their lullabies
bright through the stillness
and the Earth's cry
holds a fermata --
at least for one more night.