Old Shanghai was dying, losing between three and six streets a day. The modern city was strangling it among its many skyscrapers. Soon, in a few years at most, it will have disappeared. Yet, through ... [+]
Bolivar T. Caceres's poem, "Rain in the Streets," was originally published in Short Edition’s August '19 Rendez-Vous.
The intricate sounds of Orozco's Guitarra and the beep, beep, from passing automobiles fill the warm air, and rise towards the burdened sky as Rain materializes from thick grey nimbus clouds, and falls onto the City; yet, the mood is not somber. It is Sabbath. The mid-April air smells of wet dog, and filth, the smell of the City's deep cleanse from morning showers. The birds perform their cantata as Orozco orchestrates their instrumental. The asphalt sidewalks glisten from the rain, no longer holding yesterday's shit. The dusty jalopies, in the same parking spots since 1983,