as your ship moves past the headland
the harbor opens
crowded with junks, sampans
and impossible craft
made from trash, cast-off wood, metal cans
they move among the harbor ships
large and small
some crowded with guns or airplanes
some full of cargo or oil or passengers
eager to get ashore
~
the water is no longer blue and clear
it has become a murky soup
things float by as your ship moves to anchor
a few of them look vaguely human
the harbor is framed by steep green hills
jammed with buildings both ramshackle and stately
spilling down the slopes crowding the waterfront
and the newer buildings of the city
you begin to see that there are two cities
one built on the roof tops of the other
you are told not to go there
on the rooftops bad things happen
~
when you do get ashore
you enter a world where people live
cook, eat and sleep jammed onto the sidewalks
and in the alleys
the children are practiced thieves
your watch, wallet, money and cigarettes
may suddenly disappear
you wander the streets
and are accosted by people
talking to you in languages you do not understand
for you money goes far
things are cheap
food, clothing, jewelry, cameras
but not for others here
the locals set up outside the scullery on your ship
collecting uneaten food to distribute or sell on shore
~
you sit on deck at night
looking at the blazing wonderland of lights
that surround the harbor
obscuring the wealth, squalor and desperation of the city
some people die trying to get here
you are a stranger
a brief distraction
a small source of income
soon you will be gone
taking cheap goods and memories that remain
long after the goods are forgotten
The Ace Hotel Notebook 