blind in chinatown

i forgot my glasses in the flat
blind in chinatown, san francisco
in the blur of city stimulation, i can make out
the decor of orange peels lining the streets
shriveled up into forced smiles for tourists.
coastal air carries sparse exhales of sewage
through the gaps of the alleyways
where pigeons peck frantically at rot.
mass-produced souvenirs swirl into a mosaic of madness
kanji commercially pasted onto greeting cards and shot glasses
neon hums against the fog
sputtering characters i can’t translate-
somewhere between invitation and warning-
each flicker a stutter in the city's tired breath.
steam swirls from a vendor’s stall
the scent of soy and five-spice drifting
unraveling like a memory i was never meant to have.
i follow the glow of paper lanterns,
drifting sightless through a sea of voices
that blur like watercolor on wet pavement

i mistake a storefront mirror for an open doorway
my own face lost in the smudge of a thousand fingerprints.

the airs secretes a scent of floral seduction, seconds later
a woman in a red coat brushes past me.
the clatter of her bracelets swallowed by car horns
and the sharp inhale of a man lighting a cigarette

a pigeon startles, wings flapping against twirling scraps
paper fortunes scatter from a torn plastic bag
folded futures dissolving into cobblestone runoff