girl standing
in the yellowing light of a foreign classroom with
asian fingerprints on the windows
and her face turned up to the rippling low green
mountains that sneak up to the smog and
the blue
horizons. she has a red scarf twisted
around her neck and her future
with the romance pecking at the exotic-glass
and her hands turned up to
different things coming like roses. her
eyes are closed
but she is finally breathing, the wind
among the gingko trees too different from
the floating things inside her.
the last pavilion 