A Denizen of the Floating World

I come alive at night

When the scent of possibilities are strong and the wind blows out to the sea.

In the day I sleep

For this is not my life. This not my world. This bustling of suits and egos not my reality.

Mine is the Floating World. Diaphanous. Smoky. Half-lit and beautiful in shadow.

I had given it up these many moons. To find meaning and purpose in the Sun.

But my soul withered. My eyes died.

Then I saw you. We debated Chemistry or Biology in the twilight time between worlds.

It is the same thing, I thought to myself. Po-tah-to. Po-tay-to. Possibilities. French fries.

But you were a creature of the Sun. Of stark realities. Of pragmatism and practicalities.

We could only meet in the in-betweens.

So I curled myself into a tight ball and only touched you in my dreams.