She says, ‘I want to go to That Mysterious Country.’
The whole class wants to go there as well.
But what if she arrives there, and nobody’s waiting?
What if her suitcase full of memories gets lost in the mail?
‘But nothing gets lost there, it’s so organized.’
‘Then I know what will happen.
I will exit the airport, ride a shiny vehicle for hours,
While everyone takes pictures with wide smiles,
And suddenly, boom!
My suitcase full of memories will fall on my head!’
‘Don’t say such nonsense!’
She dreams of visiting That Mysterious Country,
Under the sole condition of having Somebody waiting.
‘Somebody?’
‘Yes, don’t you remember him?
‘The one with the perfect smile and the crooked teeth,
The one with heart-shaped lips and shiny brown hair,
With beautiful long hands to play guitar,
And eyebrows like brush strokes.’
The whole class wants to go there,
But she’s scared.
Not only her suitcase will fall.
Buildings and cherry trees and miniature cars
And poles and computers and ducks and fish
And fried rice and ice cream and lacquer boxes
And microphones and ancient houses and saltwater
Will fall onto her.
‘The world must have become one huge memory,’
A passerby will mutter
As blood escapes the amorphous flattened remains.