Chinatown Blues

Chinatown Blues
 
Teatime in Chinatown  
Where the old men play Mahjong
While reciting Lao Tzu over ramen noodles
Whose Tao is a Macau séance
For spirits of ancestors
Like the memory of an opium den  
In a dream for a wizened apothecary
Bearded in ashen white
Who sells the dust of dragon bones
As a cure for the immigrant blues
 
Where Mandarin women chirp
Like songbirds in a bamboo forest
Lost in the mists of Sichuan
But having crossed the Pacific ring of fire
With volcanic ash of tears  
For lost panda groves
And haloed by the neon glow
Of Dim Sum restaurants
Whose ancient tea house roots
Are Cantonese ghosts
Haunting the Stockton Street night