A stone / a stone knocked both tyres flat on my bicycle / as I, attempted a simple flying manoeuvre / which also demonstrates / the quality of riding that I love / and so I abandoned it in the company / car park / for more than a month, nearly two / letting, Beijing's wind and sand / humiliate it / as the wind and sand humiliate me, every morning / but suddenly, the wind stopped / the saturation of the ether, suddenly rose very high / many leaves became, more distinctly layered than they really were / in any case, I / was still sulking at it, I left it paralysed since / it could not repair itself anyway / and then, as I have always excelled at / transferring my affections / so this poem / has nothing to do with it, it merely / contributed two rubbish wheels, and an / opening shared with a stone.

I mean to speak of / that new lover, the blue / replica, which accompanies me each morning / (necessarily) slowly, along those / highly saturated streets / running, without serious incident, two red lights / everybody does it anyway / this leaves / no one at the green lights, making them / seem very dangerous. / Like that / drugged warhorse in Spielberg's film / it accompanies me gloriously, ready at any moment to fall apart / until I reach my destination / like those experts on the dance floor / who can shake at every joint / only, more impressive / because all of its joints / tremble, making my legs / tremble too / something not even the experts on the dance floor / can make me do. / How am I supposed to answer / when your blue owner asks me / which parts have malfunctioned / and allows me to select, at most, three.

I can choose you / or just as well choose / your mortal enemy, the yellow / replica / the two of you are like / the agents in suits from 5i5j and Lianjia / unable to get along, always preparing / to fight / but most of the time, ruling separate territories, your handlebars pointed / in opposite directions, embodying / this country's rare / respect for negative liberty. / I choose you for a simple / reason / two years ago I bought / a cycling pass from your blue owner / and kept / forgetting to cancel it / so now, riding you / costs nothing for two hours. / Your blue owner / made a fortune trapping / idiots / like me / and recently acquired / a shrewder boss, making me faintly anxious / about my own / fate.

I have always wondered / what the world looks like through your eyes. / As each morning I pass / those fractally ordered leaves, I also / wonder whether what each leaf sees / differs only by the subtlest angle. / In truth, humans / are nothing / so remarkable / we too are / products of mitosis / one link in this enormous world of replicas / like the clothes / we wear, the hamburgers we eat, and / the takeaway claiming an ancient secret recipe / we too are / imprisoned by / eyes, body, mind. / Our resounding / howls about uniqueness / our coveting / of ideal forms / must, I fear, make Him laugh. / But then again / why must we, like Him / see every place at once, how could that / for a human being / not also be a deprivation.

Yet / there is one fate a person / appears able to avoid / while you, blue replica lover / cannot. / We leave footprints as we travel / Our footprints do not become our burden / But they will become yours. / The more you travel through the world, the more you show yourself / the more you increase the probability of your replication / like light / the more it makes people yearn, desire, prostrate themselves / once it falls into their hands / the bulb comes on / and gains an inferior destiny. / Therefore, blue replica lover / it seems you must wait for the day you are discarded / before you can halt the fate of your ceaseless depreciation. / The QR codes stuck to your body / for fake invoices and, lifelike 1:1 silicone-doll experience halls / portals / leading to one replica space after another / will become your first calling card, blood vessels, bones / Beijing's wind and sand are so strong / fossils may / form very easily / the city's archaeologists will discover / that raised piece of / bone on the fossil / and you will puncture / many other tyres.