The shadow draws a line between the light and itself,
The sun strikes a stick,
a flattened smudge of a butt,
and a discarded cigarette.
Leaves lie where they fell:
The stones underneath provide a stage
for the drama of broken things left to chance:
the sun on its run across the sky.
Watch the little rat scamper nearby,
foraging for food,
it’s in its world of trees and flowers and the discards of humanity
we call rubbish.
It lives off our trash in this park in the middle of Yuanlin Town.
A rat and a man.
The rat: it dies, kinked tail and all.
The man: he has long since moved on,
a kinked tale to tell his friends.
“This is heaven.
Life is godly.
Living is a blessing.
Deaths are a release.”
“Take chances,” he says,
“by reading your glances more carefully.
There’s a book in every look you take!”