from brownstone streets of children's books
from basements of chamomile and the common cold
from wanting to vomit, unable to get out
from screeching owls across the sky while sleeping
from dreaming sitting on the returning character, a wall from a comic strip
from dreaming looking into windows from the train and wondering
from wishing you were someone else
and yet, everyone surrounds you
like parasites, or mutual friends
depending on how the story is heard
while ace spends his last night on earth
with the people he cares about
in small cafes
in pizza shops
in diners
yes, even in diners
ace wished the night would never end
just sitting there
talking
he knew that land was just a prison
a prison with no guard
but gravity
through a twist of fate,
he found a way out
they found him there
he set off from the station
he left that way
the other night he'd had some
crazy dream
and it all went up from there
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem