HAMMER
when the phone rings too early
to tell us school will be delayed
the wind is still roaring
but morning light squeezes in
between rain shutter gaps
Dad opens a window
slides back a shutter
so we can see the road
full of
branches, garden pots
roofing and debris
and into the house
blows hot salty air
the power comes on again
the TV startles us
and the satellite image shows
the knot of typhoon
just northeast of us
so we all go back to sleep
but in our own
beds and futons
because of the delay
the school day is short
and afterward
Yōhei, Shō, and I
walk down to the beach
to survey the damage
the typhoon has wrecked the coast—
fishing sheds
and seaweed shacks
are in ruins
and people are busy
making piles of debris
I ask a woman if she needs help
and she hands me some cotton gloves
gestures at all the mess
and at the destroyed sheds
sort it into piles
she says
pointing to mounds of
usable stuff
bits of wood
plastics
cans
other garbage
so we go at the mess
of logs and plastic junk
shoes, seaweed, plants
dead fish, pottery, and bottles
it’s salty humid
the air is clearing
the sun’s beating down
and everything’s starting to stink
and way off in the distance
apart from everyone
picking through debris
I see Daiki
I work my way down the beach
away from Yōhei and Shō
making it seem like I hadn’t
known Daiki was there
hi I say thanks for the tea the other day
I was going to call you …
he nods, tosses a bloated fish
what a mess I add, and he nods again
I go back to picking up junk
throwing it on piles
but Daiki’s looking at me—
you speak English, right? he says
yeah I say, and he’s about to say more
but then his face clouds
seeing someone approaching
from somewhere behind me
Wednesday, my house
okay? he mutters
then ducks and moves away
as Yōhei approaches
were you talking to him? Yōhei says
yeah I say
well, don’t, he’s a jerk
I stare at Yōhei
what do you mean?
he’s just weird
he was in my brother’s grade
but he doesn’t go to school now
people think he’s crazy
well, people talk that way about me I say
no, they don’t
they just make fun of you
because you’re different
that’s all
I drop my armload
of typhoon trash
right at Yōhei’s feet
and walk away
from him
from the beach
across the coast road
up to the streetcar tracks
and into the lanes
that lead up our hill
I’m halfway home
when I realize
I’m still wearing
the fisherwoman’s cotton gloves
I throw them in some bushes
after aikido on Saturday
I stay in—
I don’t go out for soccer
I don’t ride around on my bike
I just hang out at home
help Dad clean up the
typhoon-messed garden
and do English homework
I message Daiki
to tell him
I’ll definitely be there
on Wednesday
just different, that’s all
Yōhei said
like that makes it okay
to hammer me down