Watching Rainfall at Liangma Canal
When COVID restrictions were at their tightest earlier this summer, the preferred hangout for Beijingers was along Liangma River—a canal, really—where we partied on promenades while police hovered
Watching Rainfall at Liangma Canal
The lights went out around ten,
someone’s idea of driving us away.
We cheered the dark, clinked beers
till noise rose from the promenade.
Drink vendors zipped by in scooters
hawking Coronas, their idea of funny;
others slung hard stuff, gin and Beam.
No one had anywhere better to be,
not even the cops, content to watch.
And then droplets appeared, unseen
but cutting cleanly through the heat,
synchronizing some of our yearning.
Look up, look around, behind. Look:
On the svelte-black skin of the water
tiny mouths gasp for air.
Underneath, what rousing pleasure?
