Thursday, April 24, 2014



Every closeness that has flown back
from you into darkness, diminishing

Intimate or not intimate

The evergreens belonging to your window
To your former window

That girl

Little boy on the subway in Shibuya
who looked at you and pointed
at the caterpillar-sized trains crawling across his shoes

Brown dog who knew your voice
and when you stood nearby

Over and over,
here is what you love and will never see again

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