old men sit hunched on the curb
and play mahjongg in front of
The Dragon's Teeth
they hold their cigarettes
pinched between
something or other with fizz
between the sounds of tiles
and slashing punk rock guitar riffs
they chatter excitedly about how four
heroes stormed the Pagoda of Flowers
the mailman plays before
dinner - learning the ancient
game of intrigues around
the collapsible table
he eats a pomegranate
that no one else wants to trade
it has to be the worst fruit ever