Dust (for Frank O’Hara)

by Yuko Otomo

Since I came late
& am not a good friend
or a guest of so & so(s),

I am not allowed
to enter the room.

Standing “a step away from them”,
I join the crowd.

Birth place shared by 2 –
Birth year shared by many –

Singularity or multiplicity,

sand is sand & waves are waves
& it’s always you who carries
the burden of joy.

To be dead,

so unexpectedly & instantly,
not old enough to be called old,
you have to be an angel, a fool
or just a good guy.

In & outside the room,

dust gathers around the door knob,
a key hole & on the scarred floor
without (not so) many of us
noticing it.

Curiosity? Passion? Desire?

They are all sold out.

Ok-

Let’s stop it here!