Riding the train into Tokyo, through various forms of residential districts and urban hubs, I always find myself amazed by the number of people living in such a tight space.
How are they connected, I wonder.
Does the person living in the upper bedroom of that house over there know who lives in the room on the fourth floor of the building across the street? Have they ever seen each other? Do they spend their entire lives narrowly passing each other and never meeting?
Is there a bar or a café around the corner from their homes that they don’t even know exists, a place where, if they could find their way there, they would meet someone who would totally transform their lives?
From my seat on the train, I imagine arched lines and circles connecting people throughout the city.
Red arrows burst through the ceiling of the upper bedroom of the house over there and stretch across the sky, touching down in other neighborhoods, other wards, other cities, other prefectures.
It’s fascinating to me how we close people can be to each other and yet never meet or connect.
(1)
from the train I see
endless possibilities
that will never be
(2)
above last year’s leaves
lying where they fell
plum blossoms open
(3)
with buds on the trees
students in the gym rehearse
graduation
(4)
watching
drops of rain
connect
(5)
falling listlessly
even the snow seems
tired of winter
(6)
from the other room
I hear my wife scold the kids
for the mess I made
(7)
snowflakes
on a black umbrella
disappear
As always, thank you for reading.