01 • Choka beige linoleum sets the lower boundary for humanity in this mansion time capsule while regrettably permitting free passage to periplaneta japonica communists who my slack roommates have shared their possessions with— i don:t regret the roach bomb
02 • Hainka
wind whispers
past the balcony
heat bars the door
conversing
across pacific whitecaps
late whispers
trickle past my open ear
slumber denies entrance
03 • Boketto
sleeping in austerity
futon laid on tatami
i turn on rusty hinges
verging awake
roommates stumbling home
reminiscing
over lemon vodka
talk of Christchurch
1
A mansion (マンション) is a concrete apartment building with 5 floors or more. I lived in unit #903 with linoleum floors except the bedrooms, which were traditional tatami flooring.
2
Periplaneta Japonica is the Japanese cockroach, or Yamato cockroach.
3
My room was the 2nd bedroom back from the balcony. No breeze reached it, even with all the sliding doors open, because the apartment:s heat created pressure outward.
4
My first two roommates, Guy and Leigh, were Kiwis and grew up together in Christchurch, New Zealand.
Because I did not know the Latin for your roach, the reference to communist threw me off, then when everything snapped together, I grinned broadly. Very descriptive.
Kiwis?