Manchukuo

It was in Manchukuo

a word that I love

that a turning point was reached

a turning point in human thought, the abandonment of the beautiful

there’s nothing left

or the tears of Manchukuo.

I will always remember the veiled gaze of the opium-fogged woman who had taken refuge in Manchukuo.

Behind her were being lost the nobility of China, and the secret and wonders of a Forbidden City, which were giving way to a people of slaves, followers, and Mao collars

And it’s strange that the world’s leaders have all been appearing in Mao suits lately
But that’s not surprising: corruption prevails, and corruption started in Manchukuo

Obedient,

Harmonized with the yen

That’s what that woman who was using opium was thinking about.

The world dives in with me

To forget

Manchukuo, a word I love, with powdery and diaphanous faces that I saw again at a bend at one of the Olympiades’ levels.

Or
I look at you with all the tears from my past and my Manchukuo face

Manchukuo