I can fill up my gas tank because of this one

Funshi

Off to work with a plastic bag as your briefcase
Gripped by your blackened fingernails, it’s time to go.
The sun shines heavy, but it always does that here,
Shanghai – city of trade and money and garbage.

Tattered black pants and a soiled cream shirt
The perfect outfit for your grocery store –
As you reach in, your hands become your eyes,
Focused on finding anything solid.

Your old eyes disregard the lives of passersby:
A woman in stilletos barely looks at you
You take no notice of her clanging shoes, nor of
The frumpy woman in ankle-high pantyhose.

Your hand returns from out of the shadows
Like a submarine that’s finished its work.
Next, the corner of Mao Ming and Funshi
A new, four foot food store – lunch might be there.