I imagine his fingers typing up a frenzy on the other side of me, but
could not tell you why the last hour passed with his click click click
echoing in my ear.
When I tell him mount Fuji is going to erupt soon,
the clicking skips a beat,
and I wait too . . .
More images slide by in the little teaser squares on Yahoo . . .
I don’t tell him it’s because the world shifted in 2011,
with Tōhoku. I just study Hokusai’s great wave in detail,
wondering why it spits at the shrunken mount in the background.
Some 10423 kilometres later, when in his mind he has flown there
and assessed the probability of my statement and its significance,
the clicking resumes, and he says:
“Don’t fall in love, then.”