The
Strawberry Girl
Dedicated
to A.C. with love. May you find some peace in this world.
There
along the crossroads,
amongst the wagging tongues and cat-a-calls,
a lone girl walks white line highways,
pink skin oiled under flashing lights.
And there she dances, twists and twirls,
alone at night, the strawberry girl.
And if she treads softly,
perhaps she fears to step on the shadows of her past;
two heartbeats submerged under water,
wailing at the night.
And still she sings a sad, mourning song,
this girl with no memories, tree-roots now gone.
In borrowed shoes, unbound,
she chokes on the liquid present;
an abandoned child's tears
stream between the smoke and the rock.
Further
and further, yearning to burn,
the strawberry girl hopes for arms that still spurn.
And if purple spots explode on her arms,
she may wash upon your shore,
but still she washes back;
clear water seeker.
Ever twisting, turning higher,
dreams she keeps and feeds the fire.
Along broken glass sidewalks,
and the glimmer of weeping windows,
slipping through the shadows of light and dark,
barebacked she walks, yearning to fly,
here, in this city of lost angels.
© Ryan Masaaki
Yokota
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