i chanced to see a
tin foil car
in the library parking lot
yesterday

the carpet, molding, side panels
all removed
tin foil
had been duct taped
on every surface that
was not glass

even the shift ****
and the steering wheel
wrapped and wrapped
in tin foil
a Volkswagen Faraday cage

i searched the faces
of the people about me
would it not be obvious who
would drive around in a
Faraday cage
listening to voices
chasing around
their mind

tin foil car
reading Julian Huxley
and muttering about telepathy
or reading Faraday to get rid
of those nagging radio-frequency
electromagnetic radiation signals
in a hollow conductor

but, then why leave the radio in the car

Bound for lands far in the East
Never have our hands touched
Our eyes barely knew each other
Only a couple of us knew another's name
Fewer recognized our voices

In its Land of Power
As we wandered the grounds
Of a city hoping to earn the winter 5 Rings
We knew joy
We knew laughter
We knew beauty
Unlike what our home lands held

But in our final hours in the city of Beijing
A poison seeped into our morning feast
Which quickly took its toll
A few thousand feet in the Air
As we fell into the city of Western Peace

Our plans became shattered
Few of us barely survived
As our own bodies lost control
We were at the mercy of our own insides

Somehow the two state namesakes were the Worst

Taken to the hospital
If it were not for the group mothers and guides
We would have been among the dead
We saw rolled in front of us
As our medicine was entering our blood
Through needles in our hands

In the midst of what we've come to call
The Xi'an Incident
I saw a glimmer of a rare soul
One full of kindness
Intelligence
And freedom
A type of rare Golden Soul I've come to admire
That lied within the body of the other state

My actions may have been interpreted as
The essence of the White Snake
On some level, maybe it was
But in truth
My gift from Shanghai
To whisper an appropriate goodbye
Was to thank her for pushing me along when times were rough

I am thankful for all that were with me on that trip
And I do hope to see her, and everyone again.

Like I told her in a note I left,
Maybe Hoopa will help make sure
We meet again

The sun descends on the city lit horizon.
Buildings glow in the dimming light,
reflect rays of warmth onto
an already glowing bride,
her cheeks increasingly pinkish
with blush and emotion
as she stands under the Hoopa, dressed
in white ornamented silk with hair curled;
strands threaded together tight
not unlike the silver Claddaugh ring
about to descend her finger.

So special is this one moment
she dares not breath,
dares not blink.
takes in every aroma
around her:
sea salt from the bay
and sweet cake from
the celebration inside;
sensitive to the most
minute movement of silver sliding
onto skin, each hair sliding back
in ecstatic submission to the
welcomed new resident.

Dozens watch but this moment is theirs
as they give themselves to each other
with ancient phrases repeated throughout time;
this time it is theirs to say and theirs to hear
and theirs to remember, etch deep into
their memory, forever.