In Nanjing the summer weeps,
from joy or heat I cannot tell.
In Nanjing my apo jokes
about frying eggs on sidewalks
to sell from bike pedaled carts.
We’d join illustrious street marts,
holler ‘lai mai, lai mai’,
swat in customers with mosquitoes,
hum and smolder
under fragrant smog.
In Nanjing we sit on bamboo cushions
until the ridges grate our butts.
We’d peel open sticky rice sachets,
and munch the aches away.
Julia Zhou is a seventeen year old from Herndon, Virginia. She is a rising senior at the Thomas Jefferson High School for Science and Technology, where her favorite classes are Biology and English. Her writings have been featured in Typishly and the Silver Needle Press. Besides reading and writing, Julia also enjoys baking, playing trivia, and listening to soft rain.