In the Eyes of the Beholder
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it Superman?
Quite frankly, it's difficult,
If not downright impossible, to tell, in Beijing, today.
It depends on your point of view,
How you distinguish between fog and smog,
Define humidity and heat, carbon-dioxide particulates,
Whether you call thick, haze-polluted skies a rose
Or an exotic, tropical, toxic bird-of-paradise.
As Confucius say, "It all in eye of beholder,"
Which, in the final analysis, doesn't settle the case
As to why the lungs and throat, the eyes,
Burn like coal-fired furnaces powering plastics factories
(Just on the outskirts of the spit-shined Olympic venues)
Frantically pumping out toys, tease-combs, and flyswatters,
To meet the voracious needs of on-the-cheap nations.
Barmecidal feast? Double-edged sword? Pyrrhic victory?
Quite frankly, it shouldn't be too difficult to tell,
When only respirators attend the closing ceremonies.
08/08/08
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