Two bits of writing

One of these days, I'll get around to thumbing through all of the random notebooks that I've been using in this country and finally transcribe everything. I don't know how much of it is of any quality, but I'm sure there are at least a few good seeds out there somewhere.

Anyway, I just typed up a couple bits that I had written in my notebook over the last week or so. The first is a poem that I wrote today on the train, and the second is a small tale that amuses me, but I'm not sure that it is quite right yet.

Yamatoji Line

I sit on a train surrounded by strangers,
riding through a strange area
where the signs are all in a strange language
and the people are incomprehensible.
They act in a strange way,
and speak in a strange way,
but I know that I am the stranger here.
I am the one who traveled around the globe
to come to a strange place
for my own strange reasons -
to escape life
    or responsibility,
and find myself on a strange train
riding through a strange area
and surrounded by strange people.
People whom I have tried to understand,
but who seem to defy logic
and act counter to all I have been taught is intuitive.
People whom I cannot find any interest in,
but I stay here,
riding this strange train
    day after day,
so I don’t lose a small piece of home,
that I found so far from where I grew up,
in a strange land.


    I still remember my first time. I was at the beach, and though a friend was there, I felt like I was all alone. I found a dark spot under the pine trees. It was a cool June night and she was cold. I held her close and began sliding her out of her brown wrapping, my fingers trembling slightly with excitement and fear as I pulled her covering off to reveal a golden amber beneath. She was sweating despite the chill, small beads of water stationed along her neck, shoulder and body.
    I took off her cap, then brought her close. I ran my finger along her neck, gathering her moisture. I placed my palm on her shoulder and gripped her hard. I kissed her full on the mouth. She eagerly gave me what she had to give. I felt a rush of coolness flood my body. It was intoxicating. She filled my head with strangeness and joy. I held her tightly to my mouth and would not let go. But soon I found myself short of breath and my body felt completely filled. I could take no more, and she had nothing left to give.
    I fell to the ground and she slipped from my hand. She was empty and transparent in the moonlight, as if I had taken her color into me. I stared up at the sky, watching the stars spin too fast. My head was light and swimming. I felt drunk, but exhilarated.
    I wanted more, but she was gone. She would never come back, and as badly as I felt about using her like that, I felt like I had done what she wanted. I had done only what she deserved. And, I knew I would get used to the feeling. There would be plenty more like her in my future. Even then, there were at least two more waiting in the car, and I was eager to have my way with them.


(This last bit is tentatively entitled "Olde English at the beach," but I feel like that would give away the joke too soon.)