#2 “A Memory of Tokyo” An Original Poem
I like to swing.
Rocking back-and-forth I fly
To somewhere far from here—
Here being as far away from home as I can be—
To somewhere full of people
Who also like to swing.
We grab onto metal chains, planting our butts
In wooden seats as we
Three and push ourselves off
To a new world as far away from home as we can be
Until there is nothing.
The blue sky becomes a swirl of gray and white while
My shoes disappear into the clouds.
I try to grab onto
Something to keep from floating further away,
But I have to keep swinging, pushing, running
There is no one.
There is only me and my swing, listlessly
Rocking with the wind in a lonely park
In a large city
In a foreign country, all
I like to swing
But sometimes I go too far.