I borrow De Quincey's Confessions
of an Opium Eater, the aforementioned
an account of that singular
Oriental vice,
whereupon misplacing the volume
in transit
from the checkpoint, I attempt
to capsulize
the book's misadventures only to
suffer taciturnity
on the part of the staff until,
the duplicity
of a continued numbers game in
Chinese wearing
thin and with lassitude similar to
the opium habit,
the Chief Librarian, a girl herself
of Eastern domesticity
greets my queries with hushed tones
and solemnity akin to
a leering Siamese or bedridden
Cheshire cat.