After lunch, at Tabetomo in New York,
A draft of Sapporo, // a large serving of ramen.
From the bright bar counter,
Having finished a warm barley tea,
Holding my stomach,
I walked back along Avenue A,
And went to bed.

I kicked off my shoes, // lay on the mattress,
As if everything returned to childhood,
I curled up my legs // and climbed into bed.
The radio was playing
"Spider-Man, Rabbit-Man culture"
On this land // with little history but abundant legends.

I imagined my grandmother // sitting by the bed,
Chatting with my mother,
They told me to go to sleep.
I watched the faint light // behind the curtains,
Fan blades rotating,
They closed my eyes, // and fell asleep.

A few hours, or perhaps until dusk,
I woke to the aroma of dinner,
To the gentle call // from my family members.
The afternoon naps // of childhood beckon me endlessly.

My mind was still thinking,
Until I forgot all my childhood stories,
And finally fell asleep.