"There is something about China Town"
she said
angling her high-heeled walk
around some rotten fruit.
"Something mystical, something magical,
that says I am always here for you
with my red dragons
vegetable lo mein
and deep fried pastries.."
I looked at her quizzically then
like she was perhaps somewhat unstable
(not on the heels but in her thought process)
like she might start quoting to me obscure
lines from Confucius
and telling me my fortune
lay within
a cookie.
Instead she flipped her sanguine-auburn hair
winked and walked into the hubbub,
I realized years later that she was China Town.
That crazy mess of neon reds, honking horns, and freshly baked goods
somehow able to offer the comfort of coming home after a long day,
a security that only she
could manifest in such
disarray.
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