A woman from Japan cuts garlic in a man's kitchen.
She is not sure if the man loves her.
I watch the man's daughter.
She is holding a book of collected poems the father wrote when
he was much younger.
"Psychedelia, Love, and the Blues"
Opened to page 63, the daughter, and said,
"Dad, I didn't know you put this in here."
A poem called, "Love."
Daughter tells me, "When we were little, Steven, Dad and I recorded
this song. We didn't know what to sing about and dad said 'love,'
and we made up these words and kept singing them over and over."
She handed me the book.
"i know about love. some day it's gonna set me free. 11/95"
"I've been tryin to remember the rest since that day. Ugh, I can't."
And son, standing up, being only 6 when this happened, could not remember.
He looked in the mirror, punched the air, and walked out the door.
Only 6. Father can't see it. Didn't see what the air did to him.