China

In China once under a patched sail canopy at tables and stools and later alone remembering days when all seemed all important the politics with friends by day and how the breeze by night conspired with her golden hair. Now I watch the honey-draped fishing-dingies return like strays of twilight they glide in sad-silence finally to settle in place where they rock gently all night under a surrender of stars. Everything moving to its orbit everything seperating in time alone all the mistakes the misunderstandings off on their own trajectories fullfilling their own destinies all but the waitress here who moves still like a silken dream across the sea-dimmed floor bringing pots of hot chinese-tea all night long never saying a word not a single word just smiling her knowing smile.