In an empty summer classroom where purple rain comes, I sucked emotion for the first time. The emotion was murky like when I jammed my soccer cleats while clenching my teeth. Moths of time burgeoned in a white cloud outside the window where I was kneeling.

     To the command of a herd of toads that were marching down the wet school yard in single file, my buddy dashed with all his might. I remembered his sparkling dribble. His lips blurted “fuck” every time he scored, and quite magically so. The emotion muddled up with drools was soft and slippery. Soon it streamed down. Hiding the testicles of emotion, my buddy gave me a dry and lovely kick. It was when I, inside the window, looked at myself like an old bride, having been eaten up by time. He pulled up his pants stained with poop and disappeared and was beautiful and. I whispered like a wedding veil. Goodbye.

And nobody had seen them. Nobody. Yes, nobody.

     Why have we, who were wiping Hometown ketchup with a napkin from Uncle’s Burger, aged so hastily? The tattered night when we wear a wig with sausage curls and drink fetid beer, I sing unintelligibly. For the sake of the buddies who shot a rocket beyond the boy’s orbit before the countdown was over. Goodbye, for the sake of homos’(2) emotions who are at a glory hole (3) with yellow buck teeth; who must be fleeing from purple summer in their crumpled soccer cleats. And cheers.

 

 

NOTES

 

1) On the title: Here are the seasons that lent a hand to this song. The disenchantment of spring, the song of purple summer, h and autumn and h of autumn, and Min, the season that does not exist in this world.1-1)

1-1) I thought of introducing songs that lent a hand to this note, but I decided to leave them in the dark. Except I’ve listened to John and Charles and Gregg and Min’s “The Origin of Love,” “White Puppy Like a Beggar,” “The Coach Violates Me,” and “When You Were a Boy” . . .

2) This word comes from a Greek prefix meaning “to be alike.” In consequence, in many European languages, “homo” still means “to be the same.” It is sometimes used as a shortened version of “homosexuality,” but since the start of the LGBT rights movement, male homosexuals have been called “gays” and female homosexuals “lesbians.”—Translator

3) In place of the public restroom that provided space for the hole, I bleakly draw in pop artist Keith Haring’s work Glory Hole (1980).