There’s an alarm on in Yokohama. A siren, somewhere out in the night, all night, at the edge of what I’m sure I can hear - except I am sure, I may as well have fallen off the sea bus into it and while the sound slaps across my upturned nose and mouth I compose something to say to the others about our situation. The sea bus:  it’s a mishearing of Sea Bass, as in threaded and propped on a yaki stick, eyes clear and flanks carved away into delicious parallelograms. Each leaps and slaps the surface joyful, passengers shaken off. Who knows the heat of the interior. Out here exposed it’s coastal winds swirling. And into the mouths of the dogs in the malls, all carried in baskets and strollers. 

There are no demands on your compassion. The hall is still empty. The professor opens the windows to the heat on the western side. The audience appears slowly, fanning, silent. 

Now it is time for the performance of compassion as the cup of a flower holding rain.  

Now it is time for the performance of compassion as the unclipping of the rope from the stanchion. 

There are no demands on your compassion. The unmuscled flower returns to its bed. Fatigue is not the last gesture, not the most lasting, among those the audience ghosts in their seats. 

In the Yayoi Kusama exhibition shop my son grabs a pumpkin badge from a bowl and makes for the counter. Could I have raised him without this desire if I were raising him alone? Also he wants to carry a baby in his tummy, and wants drinks always from the vending machine. If it weren’t for this heatwave. Could I have raised him so that he could be turned mildly from his desire, rather than surging his body into the old museum’s tatami mats so that he can barely be picked up? Are pumpkins a sign of desire? Of course not, they are a sign of complete fulfillment. And yet some are made with holes, and some are made of mirror, and some dissolve into writhing snakes. If I can get the badge back into the bowl it is not far to the cafe. But then would I have had anything at all. Everyone’s favorite is Napping Pumpkin. It is certainly not pregnant with anything.