There was a time in Xinxiang
when you you could find good coffee and solitude.

The place was 'Jumping Bean' Cafe
At a crossroads of the sick and those who drank their first glass of Baijiu before 8am.

I would go when the clouds parted
and the sun first appeared through the curtains.

It was the best time to go.
No banging or rat telling stories.
Or fat hands and bright red noses, crawling home
after another business lunch with the young girls.

Once I met a tall slim woman, almost as tall as me. She wore high heels and high spirits.
And yet walked alone on the hot pathways of summer.

Another time, I met an old man
Who told me he had the power to ****** any woman in China.
I thought he must have the power of the Gods.
And wanted to know his secrets.

Now, Jumping Bean is closed.
And the dregs walk past.
A hurrying dust, looking for a perfect blackness.