china walks round the corner past the bank.
china is a woman this time.
china wears a jacket that’s grown very old,
now faded red, like her hair, faded thin.
china doesn’t look at me.
china’s thoughts are a hidden wall.
china lets time pass, walking ahead of her.
out of sight china turns, comes back home.
china draws a circle in the sky of her feet.
china has only silent words today.
I’m wondering if the poem “china” is perhaps an expression of yourself.
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