The hoarse wind rose
from the empty railroad track,
the Express train didn't
stop at this station somewhere
in Tokyo mottled with neon

and shadow.  The siren of ambulance rushing
through the traceries of taillights.
My mother knelt on the platform covered with slush.
You were born in the ambulance.  She put her faded

burgundy scarf around my neck.

I'm your superhero, I said.  Thank you
for being with me.  She held me--blue

sleet over flickering city falling on dead
leaves.  There are no bad guys, I said.