here I listen to crisp air with cracked lips, to remember & forget

I paint my hair red, then rehearse the lines —

         「うん、元気」

         「26歳です」

         「まだ結婚わしていません」

but the dye washes up        a pale recollection

because I’m thinking about autumn in winter

and these mountains have bled dry
there used to be a toy shop here, where obaachan bought me gifts

and over there is the onsen, holding onto our sighs
the way here is simple

the path the shopping centre the moon the apartments

the path the shopping centre the moon the apartments

the path the shopping centre the moon the apartments

we’ve traced them over and over and over again

like photocopies, but if you knock they might sound hollow and

her apron still tastes of cigarettes in a dream

because I’m thinking about autumn in winter
I repeat my steps and repeat my lines —
         「うん、元気」

         「26歳です」

         「まだ結婚わしていません」	
         「うん、元気」

         「26歳です」

         「まだ結婚わしていません」
did you know that to fold a memory into a neat circle, practice makes perfect?
now: we’re perched in containers

squinting through PVC, it feels cheap

her voice warbled like the sunsoaked plastic, frost melting

off her weird spindly branches
here, my carefully rehearsed lines answer nobody —

          “Yes, I’m good”

          “I’m 26 now”

          “No, I’m not married”

it’s a non-scene

and translation clamps my tongue

and in 10 minutes we bring it to a close.
deflated, we retrace familiar patterns before ice claws over

the path the shopping centre the moon the apartments

when Mum remarks 「あ！紅葉の木！」

so we pause and look at the lonely tree, aflame                  like it wants to live forever

and I think maybe it will never grow old

and maybe we’ve both been thinking about autumn in winter all along