Happy Panda Shoots Himself

The sex-affair had ended
Like November
the turkeys flew
like shadowy baskets

in the streets they were reading Žižek
and speaking softly about the RCP
understanding Parallax
relaxed them

The Yangse river waiting
for the bloated body of a boat
the head down like a jetty
of dirty, dirty fur

behind the tegulated beams
the dumb eyes of beasts
turn over like worlds of mucus
and precipitation

the crowd gathered around the news
the great young color guard
became the nation's
softest, stillest swimmer