A Dirty Way

Arthur returns to the bunkhouse, to pick up some snacks.

Arthur, says Katherine. I've made friends with a kakapo.

The kakapo looks up.

Hello, says the kakapo. We were just talking about you.

I was saying that you'd been to Lingshan Mountain, says Katherine.

A long time ago, says Arthur. Are there any more of those avocado chips?

No, says Katherine. How about dried cranberries?

Sorry, says the kakapo. I've eaten them all.

So what is there? asks Arthur.

Baked beans and beer, says Katherine.

Now you're talking, says Arthur.

He sits down on a sleeping bag. Not his own.

Opens the baked beans can, and starts spearing baked beans with a broken bamboo stick.

Arthur, says Katherine. That's a dirty way to eat them.

No spoons, says Arthur.

There ARE spoons, says Katherine. 

Arthur pops opens a beer.

Where are your shoes? asks Katherine. No never mind. I'm  not your keeper.

So you've been to Lingshan? says the kakapo.

Yes, says Arthur. I camped overnight at the top.

Were you by yourself? asks the kakapo.

No, says Arthur. I was with Richie Porte, and two Chinese ecologists.  

Wasn't Sikong Shu there as well? asks Katherine. He wrote that lovely poem.

That embarrassing poem, says Arthur. 

Nonsense, says Katherine. 'We lay in chaste proximity'.

Were you there too? asks the kakapo.

No! says Katherine. That's a quote from the poem.

So who lay in chaste proximity? asks the kakapo.

We all did, says Arthur. The two Chinese ecologists were women. They promised us wild jujubes for breakfast.

Oh, says the kakapo. What do they taste like?

They couldn't find any, says Arthur. So they went down to the Eco Village and bought rose cakes.

So romantic, says the kakapo.

Sikong Shu bought a pot of rose jam, says Arthur.

What about you? asks the kakapo. Did you buy anything?

I'd already left, says Arthur. 

He spears a few baked beans with his broken bamboo stick.

And remembers Sikong Shu.

SLEEPING ON LINGSHAN MOUNTAIN

At the foot of Lingshan Mountain
Near the stone path, linked by metal chains
Lie two Flying Pigeons

At the top of Lingshan Mountain
Protected from winds and damp grasses
We lie in chaste proximity

Mists rise outside our feeble tent
I cannot sleep for remembering
How once we fought with bamboo sticks.