Taking Peace for Granted

Taking Peace for Granted

Lying down on the bed after a shower,

Nagasaki is everywhere on the TV; it is the night

before the 66^th anniversary of Nagasaki’s

bomb attack. Around 9:00 p.m., we are

always taken back to 1945, soldiers marching oddly

half-fast-forward in black and white.

On NHK, an American man is talking

about his bombed fellows. The one was vaporized. Another

was charred— every year, the first half

of August brings these stifling winds,

but even tonight, after spending our first day in Hiroshima,

we had a glass of wine for dinner,

and when you’re out from the shower,

you’ll climb onto my bed, and we’ll start making love,

suppressing our voices by the thin wall.

By the time we reach another war-end

anniversary on the 15^th, we’ll be thinking what’s best for

the last dinner before I leave for the U.S.