POLICE BOX
we cross the river downstream
and pass the house we think
might be the old man’s
where a woman now stands
in front, hands on hips
staring toward the fire
we ride the riverside path
to the road that leads to the beach
and the big intersection
near where the police “box”
sits squeezed between
the post office and a flower shop
inside
the office has
a small counter
a few folding chairs
posters of those same-old
creepy faces of wanted people
and an officer who appears from
a tiny back office
the last name on his name tag
I can read 中里—Nakazato
I set the sandal on the counter
mistake!
what’s this? the officer scoffs
then brushes off the counter
lifts the sandal with one finger
and places a tissue beneath
it’s a sandal Cora says
I give her a silencing look
something to do with the fire I add
but Nakazato doesn’t flinch
an old man gave it to us I explain
he saw a man running from the fire area
and that man rode a motorbike
in front of the old man’s house …
and motorbike man dropped this sandal
we think
my Japanese sounds dumb so I add
somewhere there is a man
on a motorbike with
one sandal
Nakazato sighs
takes up a pen
so, the old man’s name?
Cora and I look at each other
we don’t know I say
we can go back to check Cora offers
Nakazato taps his pen
or if you have a map I say
I might be able to show you
and he stands and points
to a huge map tacked to the wall
I run my finger over
neighborhoods, block numbers
tiny kanji character names
for each household or business
the main road, the river, bridges
which I count up from the fire station
to the fish shop and the house on fire
then I follow houses downriver
and three houses below another bridge
where the lane narrows to a path …
this house I say, and it’s marked
竹村
Takemura
a simple name I can read
an old man lives there Cora says
his words are hard to understand
and he uses a … a stick—
she gestures and limps to show a cane
Nakazato jots down notes
anything else? he asks
I wish we had something else
but we don’t
he writes down
our names
our address
home phone number
cell phone numbers
and gives us
the police box number
please I say
please find that one-sandal man
and we leave
outside the police box
the five o’clock chimes ring
the groceries! I say
Mom’s list and her money
still sit in my shirt pocket
and by now we’re supposed to be home
chopping vegetables and starting rice
I try to swear gangster style
like Shunta in Japanese
but Cora just laughs
and for that
I take off again
before she’s ready
hah!