Puxi memories

In a taxi on Henan south road I feel it all coming back. People. Words. Places. I’m watching a woman slow pedal her yellow bike share bike across the intersection with Zhaojiabang Lu and think of all the times I crossed that stretch, on scooters gas and electric powered. On a BMX that was a present. On a yellow folding bike stolen months later somewhere just south. In taxis across three decades. I…