Mainland girls are so materialistic,

some honky tells me.
Shallow. Uncultured. Ambitious. Greedy.

I’ve heard it before from Brit-loving Honkies who

believe everything they been told about gutterpissing

Inlanders – you know they shoot their own

burned the books, dumbed down the language

it’s tragic really how unlike we are
Heard it before from Beijingers bitching out

youngmoney Shangers girls – all smoke and glitter,

just this lipsticked wide open treatyport

trying for fancy with neon and towers

but where are your tombs palaces and poetry

where are your great dead men
Let me tell you about mainland girls. Shanghai girls.

Forget about half a sky, she holding up

the birds who would fold up their wings and die

she the reason fish remember to swim

the moon shy to glance this way

roses without purpose in her presence

& she’s longmarching forwardleaping

hammer and fully sick

big dreams, lost gods

slanderous broadsheets

bold of character

redhearted

goldstar

love
I could be & love,

let me tell you.
Your socks, mainland girls made them,

made your SIM card and your shirt

made every goddamn thing

that lets you be

materialistic