FIRE
on Wednesday
the first Wednesday
for watching my sister Cora
the wind blows wild—
leaves scrape the street
shutters bang
and a Styrofoam box trips past
like it’s out for a walk
bōken—an adventure
Cora says for the fifth time
as she unlocks her bike
I nod like I have a plan
but I don’t
the wind blows so hard
the air tastes of salt
the temple bell rings too loud
and the streetcar horn blasts too close
like the train has left the seaside tracks
to climb right up to our neighborhood
high on the hill
I don’t think you have an adventure planned
I don’t think you meant it
Cora says
and for that I take off
before she’s ready
flying downhill
ahead of her yells—
Jason! Wai …
half-eaten by the wind
I skirt the park
and coast down
weaving in and out
back lanes
and alleys
keeping Cora
just in sight
not slowing till we reach
the flats where the streetcar
runs
down
the
center
of
the
road
and the sea wind blasts
from breaks
between buildings
I stop
and Cora catches up
whining between breaths
about how fast I went
about how this is so not an adventure
about how I promised her an adventure every Wednesday
if she’d go along with the plan of me watching her
so Mom can teach extra classes
so we’ll have enough money
for me to switch to international school
and I’m about to say
forget it, let’s go home
but just then a gust
brings us the scent
of grilled chicken
and I think
hey!
grilled chicken
can be an adventure
this way
I say
and we cut through an alley
to a street with
greengrocers
fish shops
sweet shops
and a tiny meat shop
where the owner and his wife
grill yakitori—
skewers of chicken
on charcoal fires
they’re friendly
not like some people
in this part of town
who talk too polite
or stare at us
with cold eyes
for being different
irasshaimase!
the butcher and his wife call out
what’ll you have today—liver?
and I laugh, liking that they know
what I don’t like
they lean forward over the counter
is she your sister? and when I nod
the butcher’s wife says
kawaī!—cute!
like a doll!
which Cora hates
but she smiles
plastic-like
and nod-bows
two skewers with scallions I say
and for the young lady? the butcher asks
we’ll share I say because
I don’t have money for more
he dips the skewers
into a bin of sauce
and sets them on the grill
my mouth
waters
as we wait
where are your friends?
the butcher asks
because sometimes I come
with Yōhei and Shō
juku I say—cram school
not you? he asks
and I groan because
the last thing I want
after school
is more school
already I have
English group
once a week
Japanese tutor
twice a week
plus aikido
twice a week
and now Cora
once a week
the butcher hands over
not two but three skewers
sābisu he says—service
meaning one is free
I hand two to Cora
keep one
and she whispers
we’ll share
the salty-sweet sauce
on hot grilled meat
is better than perfect
and I eat mine too fast
then stand there
nearly drooling
waiting for Cora to finish
her half of the extra skewer
as a customer approaches
the butcher starts his greeting
but just then a siren
splits
the air
Cora drops the skewers
and climbs me like a tree
the customer grabs my arm
and holds on tight
the butcher sheds his apron
and races up the street
by the third siren
I can set Cora down
the customer lets go
and the butcher’s wife collects
the apron and dropped skewers
fire! she says above the siren
and in this wind! she adds
eyeing dust and leaves
plastic bits and paper
flying through the air
come on! I say to Cora
even though the butcher’s wife is
dipping new skewers for Cora
let’s go! I say
even though seconds ago
I wanted more
as we pedal off
a car flies past
two workers
race from a side alley
a man in a suit
leaps onto a bicycle
from all sides
men head to the fire station
and rush to a fire truck
where the butcher
now sits in full
firefighting gear
the siren wails
the truck leaves
bells clang
more sirens sound
more bells clang
and shopkeepers
customers, students
even tourists just off the streetcar
stand still as snapshots
and in this wind …