From The Corner of Pak Tai Street and Sung Wong Toi Road

The other night I was working out in the gym and I started to take in the view. The gym is on the second floor and it is open to the street corner, with big tall windows.

From the corner of Pak Tai Street and Sung Wong Toi Road, I can see an old man in his pj's and slippers. He's standing under the Dance Academy sign and swinging his arms back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He is smoking a pipe and likes to stretch on the fire hydrant. He seems happy.
From the corner, I can see little Cantonese children in their school uniforms. They are clutching the hand of their domestic helper, usually a Phillipino woman. I wonder how long the parents work and I wonder about the Phillipino woman's family at home.
From the corner, I can see sleek looking professionals in suit jackets and shiny shoes, coming home late at night. It's too late for supper. They seem weary.
From the corner, I can see a weathered woman pushing a big cart with chestnuts in a wok, and sweet potatoes in a coal bin. She's trying to make it across the street. She's just trying to make it by.
From the corner, I can see mountains as a backdrop to the drama of the city. They must find this city an interesting storyline.
From the corner, I can see the hotel on the corner with the wanna-be Western restaurant, where many sightseers from the mainland come to stay. It has tacky plastic red roses on the tables. They bug me everytime I walk by.
From the corner, I can see red and green topped mini-buses, swerving ambitiously along the road, sprinting to keep up with the pace of the city. The cutely British looking red taxis tag along, too.
From the corner, I can see technicolor lights flashing and dancing against skinny highrises. The lights of the city never die.
From the corner, I can see the lasting flavors of a British colony- traffic skating on the left and English labels conveniently alongside the Chinese.
From the corner, I can see my little piece of Hong Kong.