You shared the long train ride
with us three foreigners
north out of Kyoto
through the February hills
to Kurokawa where the snow lay piled
so deep that they'd dug tunnels
to connect the houses
that's how I remember it at least
though it's been so long
I can't swear to it

We'd come
you and your friend Monica
I with my wife Joan
to watch the Noh plays
performed by village folk
in this small farming town
though not intended for outsiders
this being Japan
we were of course made welcome

Of our little group
you were perhaps the most keen
since carving Noh masks was your craft and calling
later I learned you also had a taste
for Russian songs such as I liked to sing
and that you had a Swedish boyfriend
you told me carving Noh masks
followed strict guidelines
an impersonal aesthetic
nothing of your own features
and this was only difficult
when the face was someone
your own age and gender
then something of yourself
would show up
in spite of your best efforts
fifty years later I still think about
why this would be so
and I think also of your quiet presence
your serious demeanor
giving way at times to a shy smile
and I feel a certain sadness even now
that as with many of the friendships
that I might have nurtured
I let ours slip away
as precious coins might slip
through clumsy fingers