THROUGH BEIJING STREETS

So little is known about plans made by men
Not bridges nor buildings nor occasional parks
Not the reshaping rivers or banners of silk
Nor electrical steps and all color hued lights
But an old man pedals
On his bike to my right

Elaborate plans of road’s women and men
Eluding our view and but full parts of them
Of the bricks being carried through Beijing streets
Twigs, bamboo and barrels and occasionally feed
Large plastic empties twined tightly affixed
While an old man pedals
On his bike to my right

Streets at their crossing merge multiple routes
Loads of dried scraplings, used products and parts
Boxes on wheels, motorized bikes
Grey dusty cycles, shined headlights at night
Flow all together to some places not seen
As an old man pedals
On his bike to my right

Grey grimed rooftops with weights to hold
Red and Gold shimmers ornate the streets glow
All coming new, no repeats in like’s kind
Everyday workers that might get or might find
In the rush to the city on its daily bikeride
And an old man pedals
On his bike to my right

Not like patterns of trust and good practice
But scattered and jammed and forced back and toward us
Like nothing now seen opposite earth’s other side
Just all in one place where street’s sportors vie
No choice but to enter China’s life bikeride
And toss all measurable measures aside
While an old man pedals
On his bike to my right