Frantic Summer · Dazaiosamu
That Summer
Turn all my father's inheritance into goldchoose a rainy day in summerwhile the air is dampand filled with spores that derange and suffocatesoak the gold in the earthen pit before the houseuntil the soil leaves its given formplant unfamiliar flowerslaugh some more, cast in still more blurred memories of himallow his life, in a form as easily denied as mistto continue in the dreams of his blood descendantsin the murmurs of daylightuntil those illusory thingslike insects, gnaw away every bit of his goldthen people begin formally to accept his deathIn a town at the edge of hell, a hair salon flashing red neonsends out wave after wave of hallucinatory scentWith one faded grain of gold, I am admitted“You know what kind of place this is, don't you?”a womanlike creature asksThe electric fan turns with a squeak; outside the window it is not summerher clothes rub against my skinthat sound makes me retchso like some unknowable number of years ago—a family seated around one tablethe warm sounds of cutlery touching, softly cutting and scraping