exhibition nowhere

Walking home at night

I can hear the warning ding of the railway crossing,

hear the clack-clack as the train rolls past, and

when I look up, I see the stars.

In the distance low rows of negi stretch into the horizon.

When I close my close I feel the wind

and hear the crickets singing.

If I’m not careful I will step on frogs

(the kind the children catch and treasure)

The karaoke bar thrums.

They’ve paved the roads; no more holes.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all…

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