CHINESE Poem by Jan Glas

Mr M. has already lived more than
thirty years on the fourth floor
of Buttercup Block
and been through a thing or two
and feels that Chinese ought never
get to live on the ground floor,
but live always up top

on the uppermost storey,
because of the strange cooking and frying smells
that all day long
reek up the staircase,

and you never know
how many are living there
and Chinese are quite bland.

Mr M. has a large collection
of European blackout paper
from the Second World War.

Each country had its own paper.

Last week in Assen
from eight floors up
a Chinese fell to his death out a window.

‘Ups-a-daisy,' says Mr M.