: building next door for karaoke. “The girls of Mermaid.” Our songs wave in up-beat to sentimental to 80s to Janet Jackson. “Under Pressure is the best song that no one knows the words to.” Time runs up twice and we close the establishment out. Riding the cab at 4 am. Thank you to our cab driver that night. Let us by as we fumbled, counting our crowded coins. He seemed to enjoy our marbelized conversation. The night howls with the rushing of white-dust mapping wind currents and the diesel shovels with their crustacean lamp eyes. “Trucks like this only come out late at night.” Oolong tea and soju has left me awake. Underneath hot water, underneath hot water.* * *
Hot plate blanket. Left the box switched to high. Five hours is not enough.
* * *
I love Peet’s coffee (Thank you again, Jose!). Mos Burger and the snow is a blizzard. Met A. and J. at the hut. “The highway is closed. It could take 2 hours to get to Sapporo.” A lemon yellow house; cabbage town; a gray citadel with smoking stack I enjoy imagining to be a school. We meet E. at Oodori Station and ride the subway to the end. The map suggests a road behind us but we roam the road that has the most action. We get lost. Back and forth, asking directions, we wander behind an apartment complex, the courtyard mountains of snow. Amber lights alighting flakes. J. and I race and skate on the icier patches. We’re enjoying this lost adventure. I jump a fence. Finally, a slushy road to the dome. The humidity underneath the shell. I cheer for Rera Kamuy, following the directions on the big screen and I don’t know why I’m getting evil eyes. The seats we find are in the section designated for the visiting team. Hence the Sun Rockers inflatable, yellow batons. Corn dogs, beer, salted vanilla ice cream, an orange scarf. J. and I talk to the boys in front of us; flannel shirt and a Carhart cap. “Yes we can!” they chant. “O-Ba-Ma!” they continue. Later, Mos Burger again and a bus ride back. A drawn out bath and The White Tiger.
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