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63. Orion, the Dog Star
The theater swarms with kids. Monsters are flying,
monsters are drinking milk. Only the world
is unexplained, the rest can be scooped up
in a box of crayons. I’m not in the habit
of howling, but today I’d like to be a dog.
Adulthood comes from sorrow. Sorrow? Life,
what flits like a tadpole in children’s eyes,
is better than a fairytale, if seen from far away.
But this world’s just a tiny Japanese garden,
a ball with dancing snowflakes you can hide
inside your pocket and again become
a monster, live with a monstrous hunger,
devour stones, earth, sky, stars and still be hungry,
and you can howl, while others keep on sleeping.