The Life of Streets
Zhu Xiao Di
1. City Street
An empty street
Passersby rarely seen
Its pavements
filled with trash bins
waiting for garbage trucks.
Recycling bins remain
until midday
when all is emptied
and retrieved home—
weekend begins.
Any difference between
weekends and weekdays?
Not anymore.
Should there be one?
That is the question.
As more people work from home,
city streets have lost their cycles of
noise and quiet, day and night.
All in peace.
Where is war hiding?
2. Liberty Street
—Quincy, MA
A street
not entirely straight
with a split
easily diverts
to another street
and mainly quiet with
mostly two-family houses
notably stopping at
a dead end in the west
and a noisy auto shop
in the east
now its owner
is plotting to open
a marijuana store
instead!
3. Boon and a Bane
A single-lane two-way road
one thousand meters long
heavy traffic day and night
almost nonstop
Residents on both sides
have little room in front
to squeeze in a chair
between the pavement and the door
Why such heavy traffic
I often wonder
walking along
its narrow pavement
Once I let myself
meander to its very end
a conjunction
with the highway
I felt hearing the hailing
when access opened
and found it brew
the gloom of current residents
4. My Street Neighbors
Each time I passed
by their house
a few doors away
from my own
I had no idea
what would be
waiting for me
Often it was the
man and woman
standing in curbside
sometimes chatting
quietly as if lovers
in honeymoon
occasionally staring
at each other in silence
you’d have to guess
are they angry
and at whom
Once I didn’t see them
but heard a scream
coming from inside
followed by a pair of shoes
flying out of the door
and the banging of it
shaking the ground and floor
5. On the Streets
It’s a perfect day
to be lost in a strange city
The sun warms the streets
You don’t need anyone friendly
Strolling past the shops
you’re in no hurry
to even know what you want
Yet someone you know
may appear
and surprise you
more than you’d expect
6. A Street Gentleman
Standing at the front
Of my hotel
In a southern city I’ve never
Visited before
Wondering how to
Get to my destination
Three minutes’ walk away
I saw a black man
Wearing a suit of
Light gray and a white hat
Smiling at me
With blinking eyes
I asked him for directions
This way, please follow me
He said, his white teeth
Shining between opened red lips
One minute later
He pointed to a tall building
And wished me good luck
By the way, he added
You know I’m a street person, don’t you?
Can you spare a dollar, please?
Surprised, I pulled out my wallet
Gave him a five-dollar bill
And wished him good luck
7. Christmas Wreath
A man and a woman, side by side
Hang twin wreaths—
Evergreen circles on glassy duplex doors
He towers a half foot
She smiles, eyes locked
Hoisting hers to match his
Married? Neighbors?
Ex-lovers kindling new flame?
None of my business, yet curiosity tickles
Though Christmas claims no roots in me
Joy swells as more wreaths
Aglow in my neighborhood
8. Lucky Numbers
A convenient store reopened
At the street corner
Two black girls smiled at
Curious spectators and passers-by
Both had enticing mouths
With lips covered in bright lipsticks
Shining eyes under fake eyelashes
And bare legs in short skirts
The sisters were cherishing a big hope
In bosoms barely covered
By tight leather girdles
They took over the store from the Asian owner
With a mutually satisfied rent
Letting him go enjoying the sunny beach somewhere
At some point in his midlife
The door became locked again
Merely three days later
The two plump sisters vanished
Leaving the Lottery neon sign
Inside the window shining
Day and night, reminding
How big the lottery game has grown
9. The Mailbox
There’s a mailbox drifting along the street
Passing us by, unseen
While fulfilling its duty, it proves we’re alive
Life is fragile, as eggs delivered by mailmen
When the mailbox stops running
As we lock ourselves indoors
Waiting for nothing
Our time is over, no longer our own
10. The Moon
Today is garbage collection day.
Bringing out brown bags of recyclables,
dumping the stinking black bag of trash,
shining moonlight startles me.
A special night: they say the moon
won’t be so large and bright for years,
maybe not in my lifetime again.
Have I seen such a night before?
Maybe yes, maybe not.
It feels familiar from long ago,
in childhood and youth.
For so long, I have neglected the moon.
I see it daily but rarely pay attention.
How long since I truly gazed?
Each time, I would be thinking of
my mother and hometown.
Zhu Xiao Di is the author of Thirty Years in a Red House (a memoir), Tales of Judge Dee (a novel), Leisure Thoughts on Idle Books (essays in Chinese), and poems at [Alternate Route], Assignment, Blue Unicorn, E·ratio, Eunoia Review, MSU Roadrunner Review, Pennsylvania Literary Journal, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Crank and WestWard Quarterly, as well as Heathentide Orphans 2024. He contributes to Father: Famous Writers Celebrate the Bond Between Father and Child (an anthology).