Early morning I pedal past
Spring River Shoe Shop
Thread among walkers, riders
Public vehicles and taxis
Full of foreigners and ganbu
Under clean spring sky and
Heaven's yellow chilly light
The brown second story
Along a narrow road that pops
Like a vein at the curved
Red firehouse, where PLA men
Jolt across the intersection
In green trucks, and then
I'm over the first canal
Where everything opens up