The road where I passed today
Was not the same as yesterday.

The driver took the shortest route – the easiest.
Moulting:
The snake shedding its skin.

Changes, I said to myself. Changes.

There were three of us left inside the vehicle.
Two faces I am familiar with – that of a woman and a man.

Science’s skin  lapping that of religion’s

Stitching of the skin – woman.
Cutting of the skin – man.

Now, I’m thinking of Africa.
Now, I’m thinking of Jews.

I told the driver to stop on the other side.
I lifted the lock, raised the door open, and went out.

Waiting for an idea to struck:
An idea -- that a mouse should cross my path,
An idea -- that a cat would sit on its favorite spot.
And I would say: It’s too early.

The sky, after reading a letter from the sun, blushes pink.
“Look at her skin,” I would tell you, “pink.”

Reading is listening. We listen to what we read.
Reading and listening to their voices:
Their voices have their own skin.

Irezumi.
Traditional Japanese tattooing – an art.
I remembered you. And your skin.

She – the mountain woman.
Perhaps, they can make her a National Artist.

The living art.
The living skin.