Pink’s but a skin to her: a slick
Slim-fit coat of cute: tight-knit.
Gleaming buttons, bobs, and bows
In matching rows surround a zip.
Her pager blips. The taxi sits
Outside, itching to scurry quick
To the studio. She’s primed to go
Hair primped in bunches, tight: although
Some few strands drift in hairsprayed wisps
Like fairground floss in air-light bits.

They sing and dance till four. Encore:
A split-take on a new-cleaned floor.
She knows each move, coordinated
In joint-pose holds like pre-set molds
Well automated. Every tune
Will last from March to April,
May till June: as rainbows fading fast
Or scant insectoid creatures
Flitting past. She greets the camera, smiles
A simper white like polished tiles.

I wonder if under that veneer
Of sucrose wrapping, there’s a girl
Sincere, a girl who chuckles hard
Who gambols through her sixteenth year.
Perhaps a girl who longs to climb
Up Fujiyama’s cold incline, and shout
And prance and flounce about
And holler something to the world.
Instead, she sprinkles powder
Where tears were. Pink’s but a skin to her.

i go there not to buy sushi, but
because her hands are tiny, shaped
like slender fish or a daydream; white
with creases from hours of seaweed rolls.
the doorbell tolls. up she launches
like something couched in bamboo woods
…a man comes in. twelve dollars ten
he leaves, my vigil’s due again.
little i complain, but sometimes wish
for a rice-paper palace; cross-thatched floors
no key. a silkslick servant dulls
the lamp. and she would smile at me.

Roze je za nju samo koža: uzak,
ukrojen sako slasti: gusto satkan.
Sjajni dugmići, rezovi, mašnice
U sparenim redovima oko rajsferšlusa.
Njen pejdžer kaže blip: taksi stoji
Napolju, u svrabu od želje da odjuri
U studio. Ona je zapeta da krene;
Kose sapete u buketiće, čvrste, sa tek
nekoliko pramenova, oblačaka, nalakiranih,
što plutaju, vazdušasto-laki, kao šećerna vuna.

Igraju i pevaju do četiri. Encore:
Ona pravi špagu na sveže očišćenom podu.
Zna svaki pokret: raspoređuje
Zglobne poze kao unapred izlivene kalupe,
dobro automatizovanim procesom. Melodije
traju od marta do aprila,
od aprila do maja; blede brzo, kao dûge,
Kao tanka insektoidna stvorenja,
Što prolepršaju, bez težine. Ona pozdravlja oko kamere,
smeši se. Jecaj joj beo kao izglancane pločice.
.
Pitam se da li pod tom koricom,
Tim ovojem od sukroze, čuči devojka
Iskrena, što ume da zapadne u kikotanje
Ili pravi gluposti u svojoj šesnaestoj,
Možda čezne da se popne
Ha hladnu liticu Fudžijame, i viče,
I skače, i baca se uokolo.
Umesto toga, ona posipa puder
Tamo gde su bile suze. Roze je za nju samo koža.

tamo idem ne da kupujem suši, već
zato što su joj ruke majušne, oblika
vitke ribe ili sanjarije: bele,
sa naborima od sati utrošenih na rolnice ovijene algama.
zvoni zvonce na vratima. ona skače
kao nešto što je dotada čučalo u šumi bambusa.
…ulazi muškarac. dvanaest dolara deset centi.
odlazi. sad opet, bdim.
ne žalim se. tek ponekad poželim
palatu od pirinčanog papira: sa podovima od urkštene trske,
bez ključa. i svilenkastog slugu da priguši
svetost lampe. tada bi mi se nasmešila.