snapped in traffic static

the panicked lateness of

cars as though this were

an echo of shanghai or

tokyo or maybe I could

just be calmer and feel

the calligraphic hand

of a tollway winding

northward as I’m edging

the shadow of a truck trying

to catch its shade always

creeping out of reach and

see this road? again the

morning sun makes it a

brilliant black and it’s as if

each moment is already art

just there just waiting to be

discovered and flipped at a

beijing auction house where

those profits sing like ribbons

twirling their curved highways

across our summer sky