i broke twelve times yesterday

once seeing our two arms side by side
again when the throat singers stopped playing
again when us foreigners displaced the baby and her family
from upstairs bar since we would spend money
and
for a fourth time when her little hand closed on my fingers

once when no one said hello to the taxi driver
and again when no one said thank you
for a sixth time when you told me it didn't matter what i said
as long as i was honest

once broke with disgust for myself for staying out so late
embarrassing bar smoke smell in church
with the ambassador's daughter
eighth time that no sleep feel shaking hands with a rich woman in black

shattered shivered perfect the ninth time reciting the lord's prayer

once seeing the hills that exist beyond beijing
only when there is no smog
and again noting small bush blossoms pink white yellow
in the shadow of skyscrapers

last and wholly
into a million pieces in the hutong
old woman wheel chair child kites setting sun on broken brick