4 LITO

we used to share a mat in a heatless room 
stow away brown rice and carrot sauce 
stolen nori roll ta-da from the caves of your coat 
waiting for the night train, hot platform gusts against
the outer world

the year i learned about
metal tupperware with the buckles

you in the mirror, side part
pinching in the width 

we slept in the loft illegally
I sat on the ladder with a witch hat on
you took a picture
and so I remember

other homes, you taught me to
steam vegetables on top of rice
like making a little bed
goodnight with the lid

i carried the mat on my back 
across the water
in my car across the country

and the night before you flew to meet
your future wife for a second date at disneyland
you were so sick, but let me and my brother
have your bed

now you have babies
and lost your house
to the fire

we don't talk

in the inventory of things that
do and don't matter

material world, memory world

what matters changes will
change again

hands drunk and bright
adjusting from cold
unwrapping a snack

futile backwards transmission poem 

changeless wish