I don’t know why
I keep thinking
of my first car,
so dark and green 
the perfect color
for disappearing
at night into the deep 
park with its roads
that led to friends,
the mystery 
of their kindness,
without a thought
I let them all go,
it was so old
but carried me
across the quadrate
capital where
I was born,
I drove through
shadows giant white
buildings cast,
sometimes spring 
blossoms from famous 
trees the mayor 
of Tokyo gave us long
before the war
on my windshield
fell, one winter
when I was young
the radio told me 
a plane crashed 
into the bridge
then the DJ made 
a terrible joke
and I laughed,
was that when
I began to snow,
a thousand years
of ice covered 
my path, before 
I ever found it
I lost even my
thought of home,
if from the provinces
I should return
I will drive 
to the bridge,
stop and get out
wearing the black 
luxurious coat 
with a torn
lining my father 
gave away,
touch the railing,
look down in the dark 
the water contains 
and wonder 
where did 
the bodies go,
will they pull them 
out or wait 
until spring,
what calculations,
are you still there
under the dark,
should I destroy 
this mountain
of snow on my hand,
the buildings with
their vacancies
beckon but I must
stay here just a few 
centuries longer,
who first told me
about that meadow 
no one has found 
without falling 
asleep to forget 
all the most 
beloved ones,
terrible meadow
where I went
to be safe
from my only
ones who will
keep me safe,
how much longer
must I stay here
in this meadow
the blue bees visit,
to them all
flowers are strange,
they love no one 
thus and thus 
they do no harm.