When you have found out the reason to delay your death,

a crow will perch on the edge of a tree branch you have swung your swing by.

When you were too small to stand on the swing and rise higher up on the swing,

the branch seemed more real than the swing.

But now and then slicing the air on the swing

you got the feeling that the swing is the only real thing

and everything else is fake.

You catch yourself looking at a crow breakfasting on a strip of fish meat.

You think of the sea that lives in your neighborhood,

you think of the fishermen who live with the sea

and the fish that they take from the seas deep freeze

and you think blankly.

What has happen to you, you used to be happier?

You don’t remember when that was