I met him several years ago
while seated ta adjacent tables
in Sapporo’s pedestrian underground.
I was reading a book, and he was
sleeping with his head resting on
a big black bag.
Waking, he looked up, and we smiled.
Then getting up, he walked away.
I used to see him on the pedestrian
underground walkway, his head
resting on his big black bag.
It’s been several years since I last
saw him, and I’ve wondered where
he’d gone. Then, one late morning
while waiting for my bus, I glanced
over at a row of seats and saw him,
his black bag in the next seat.
When I cleared my throat, he looked
up, shocked. Jumping to his feet, he
took his bag, and fled. I’ve not seen
seen him since. Who are you, and
where have you gone? The question,
unanswered, haunts me.
What I write 