Super BaBa was my California,
Proving that a journey west will bring you east,
And in those days we rarely ventured further west
Than Allston.
There were no laopo in the lychees, or Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
And almost everything your inner aisles contained
Was for all practical purposes inedible
To a bland New Englander who, steeped in gochujang so long,
Would enjoy you so much more now, were Lethe lady luck.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went farther west
than Brighton.
We found no laopo in the lychees, or Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and almost everything its inner aisles contained
seemed inedible
to a bland New Englander who, fermented in gochujang so long,
would enjoy them so much more now, were Lethe lady luck.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Brighton.
There was no laopo in the lychees, or Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and what its inner aisles contained seemed
inedible
to a finicky provincial eater, who, steeped in exile,
would do more than walk down them, if time forgot.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
We saw no laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and what the inner aisles contained seemed
inedible
to a provincial eater, who, steeped in exile,
would feast from them, if time forgot.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
No laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and the inner aisles seemed
hoards of the inedible
to a blue-state hick, who, steeped in exile,
would now feast from them, if time forgot.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
No laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and the inner aisles piled
inedible hoards
before the gaze of a blue-state hick, who, steeped in exile,
would gorge on them, if time forgot.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
No laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and the inner aisles piled
goods for all stomachs.
Reification is imagination;
Saturn isn’t time, but still.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
No laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and the inner aisles piled
goods for all stomachs.
Commodification is imagination;
Saturn’s not a watch, but still.
Super BaBa was my California,
proving that a journey west can bring you east,
and in those days we rarely went
to Allston or Brighton.
No laopo in the lychees, no Du Fu in the dragonfruit,
and the inner aisles piled
goods for all stomachs.
Commodification is imagination;
Saturn’s not a calendar or clock.