THE NEW CHINESE FICTION

We like it because we know it will go away. Old-young pairing. Guy seeks girl in a ghost story. Mao cap with sunglasses, striped shirt, red flag peasant tee, green flag peasant socks. Seamstress. Boss foreman’s table, tunnel undersea, tea service, funeral mall. Women on the margins. Dark glasses. Double pairs. Knock-kneed security guards and a candy-coated comic lead. Badges on the arms of peasants. Blueprint. Chewing gum. Shady fight and doubled. Planners face masks, real consumption heads up “rote” old dead pair on bed. Young dead pair on floor hang five in Sanya on the Chinese Hawa’ii. Backmasking—what’s guy’s red shirt say? Ping pong on board table. Return of green and red flag groups. Desert warehouse set in brick yard. Two trees. Buffing copper plate. FREEZE. Earthquake, resumption: walls fall books rain. All dead in rubble. Rote rubble, camp-style loudspeakers on poles. Army rescue. Flower pots, sewing machines. Doctor stretchers. Clear rubble frieze. Blank van nits warehouse floor people sit, come.