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5 Pop Song II: “I Am of Hong Kong” One has to be so vulgar To live in vulgar times In vulgar places. Where they force themselves on you Landing on your lap On moving buses. Too many bodies We have here. The trouble is They are alive. Dead, they could be buried. But the fantasia of bodily stench Is a mere dance, almost an abstraction. Reality is which elbow To use, whose elbow To avoid. Have piecemeal what piecemeal can, Heaven and earth conspire the moment. Have, get, make, what I will, I must: Minute elegance of much Washed in gutters Near resettlement areas By the Carlton Hotel Seeps into our guts And makes Hong Kong what it is. ...

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