Where the lantern hangs.

Not many here speak our language.
Or eat the familiar conveyer belt made ham sandwich
The young get lost in the aisles.
Clothes and hair fare their own styles.
Like zoo animals recently escaped.
Pickled sweetness of plums and dates.
You can ask a dozen times the misunderstanding doesn´t become any clearer.
When you ask why that special sauce is always getting dearer.
Hanging lanterns, promises, a better life, new paint!
To cover the old, and mask the graffiti list of complaints.
Surface distraction it´s heart still owned by the blood that runs through it.
Like the red lamposts and their quaint boxes lamplit.
The expensive wooden awnings and trim.
The noodle man and his toothfilled grin.
Your little tourist adventure through a china town.
A place where péople who are found...
Are called wing and wang.
A place where gods have many limbs and fangs.
A place where the oriental lantern hangs.