Occupied City (32 page)

24. Another name from the list, another doctor from the list, this one called Yanagi, this one in Chiba
bad men, good men
YOU ARE ALWAYS SO SUSPICIOUS, YOU ARE ALWAYS SO JEALOUS Yanagi had once been a research director in Detachment 731
in wartime, in peacetime
I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT Yanagi had once been in charge of botanical disease experiments
war crimes, peace crimes
WHAT MEN YOU MEAN, WHAT MAN YOU MEAN Now Yanagi is living on a dusty highway between a tobacconist and a butcher
the clues lie in your words
HE WAS NEVER HERE, NEVER IN THIS ROOM Now Yanagi is working in a shabby surgery between a noodle shop and a gas station
in your words lies the evidence
I CAN’T MAKE THEM STAY LOCKED IN THEIR HOUSES For Yanagi is in hiding, for Yanagi is in fear
the evidence of your lies, the evidence of your guilt
I CAN’T MAKE THEM LEAVE THEIR EYES AT HOME He denies and he lies, then he cowers and he whimpers, and now he
confesses to his crimes
all men are guilty, all men are culpable
I CAN’T MAKE THEM NOT THINK WHAT THEY THINK He begs and he pleads, then he betrays and he informs, and now he gives me a name
in wartime, in peacetime
I CAN’T STOP YOU BEING SUSPICIOUS, YOU BEING JEALOUS Another name for my list, another doctor for my list, this one called Sawa, this one in Funabashi
bad men, bad men
PUT A KNIFE IN MY BELLY IF YOU WILL, BUT NEVER PUT YOUR HAND ON MY HAND AGAIN

25. I turn the dark corner, I go up the stairs, I walk along the corridor, I open the metal door, I take off my shoes, I walk through our room, I stand over her body, I lift it up, and I say, Is it still you, are you still here
you are not a bad man, but you are a poor man
I AM THE GOOD DETECTIVE I should be able to see you with my eyes, but I can’t see you; I should be able to touch you with my hands, but I can’t touch you
nothing but her and this job, this bloody job
NOTHING BUT WORK UNDER THE SUN I should be able to see things, I should be able to touch things
everybody hates the police, nobody talks to the police
THE EARTH HOTTER THAN HELL What a very fine city we live in, what a very fine place it is, even finer with company
the police don’t talk to the police, even the police hate the police
I SWEAT EVEN WHEN I SLEEP Did he stand here, this close to you
you’ll be giving someone a very nasty cut one day
BUT HELL IS COLD, AND I AM COLD Oh, how I wish I had been him
you go through this world like an open razor
AS COLD AS THE PAUSE BETWEEN A ‘YES’ AND A ‘NO’ Your lips are so very beautiful, would you had left them at home today
someone or something waiting, just waiting to be cut
IS THE ‘YES’ TO BLAME FOR THE ‘NO’, OR THE ‘NO’ TO BLAME FOR THE ‘YES’ Your lips, your mouth, so very, very red; why are there no blisters on your lips, your mouth, I wonder
a good detective takes care of himself and his family
BELOW THIS VERY FINE GREY SKY, ON THIS VERY FINE GREY DAY I can see him now, I can see him standing, him standing here with you
a good detective isn’t careless, distracted or foolhardy
I WANT TO HAMMER A PEG, A PEG RIGHT INTO THAT SMOKE Oh, how I wish I had been him
don’t cut your nails at night, don’t whistle those tunes at night
A PEG TO HANG MYSELF FROM
I see him, I see him, I see him and I see you, I see you, I see you, I see you and I see you with him, I see you with him, I see you with him, I see you with him and I see an abyss, I see an abyss, I see an abyss, an abyss
you have nothing in this world but your wife
UNTIL MY BLADDER EMPTIES If you look inside, every man is an abyss, you get dizzy if you look, if you look down, look inside
you are a poor man, but not a bad man
UNTIL MY NECK BREAKS

26. My colleagues have gone up to Otaru in Hokkaido, gone to arrest a man called Hirasawa Sadamichi
among the tunes, among the smoke
THE SOUND OF SCRATCHING My colleagues believe they have the evidence to prove that Hirasawa Sadamichi committed the Teikoku crime
in the Black Fog, in the Black Mist
SCRATCHING UNDER THE GROUND My colleagues believe Hirasawa Sadamichi has no alibi for the time of the Teikoku crime
we’ve seen you before
IN MEMORIES, BLOODY MEMORIES My colleagues believe Hirasawa Sadamichi had a strong motive for committing the Teikoku crime
we’ve seen you pissing
ALWAYS TALKING ABOUT ME My colleagues believe Hirasawa Sadamichi is guilty, my colleagues believe Hirasawa Sadamichi is the killer
pissing in the street
BEHIND MY BACK But I know Hirasawa Sadamichi is not guilty, I know Hirasawa Sadamichi is not the killer
pissing down a wall
OF THOUGHTS, BLOODY THOUGHTS For I know who is guilty, I know who the killer is
pissing like a dog
ALWAYS WHISPERING ABOUT ME I know his name and now I know his address
among the tunes, among the smoke
BEHIND THEIR HANDS And soon, very soon, I will know his face, I will see his face
in the Black Fog, in the Black Mist
THE DREAMS, BLOODY DREAMS, OF THE GOOD DETECTIVE

27. He shouts, I thought you were my man-on-the-inside, my man-in-the-know, but I’m the last-man-to-know, I’ve been scooped
all things are foreign to you, all people are alien
I CUT MY NAILS, EVERY NIGHT, AT NIGHT Everyone’s in the dark, I say, not just me, not just you. They have kept the rest of us chasing suspects with military backgrounds, suspects with medical backgrounds, kept telling us to forget about the name-cards
no longer
human, no longer living
SO I MIGHT SEE AGAIN MY FATHER’S GHOST He shouts, But they told us not to write about the military men, about the medical men, told us to keep it out of our papers and look where that’s got us. Duped and scooped
reflected, fractured, disfigured and other
AT NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT, I CUT MY NAILS You think you people, your newspaper, are the only ones who get censored, I laugh, wake up! This country is an Occupied Country, this city is an Occupied City. They can do what they want, when they want, to who they want, how they want. It’s an Occupied City and it’s a set-up
yesterday’s enemy is today’s friend
IN THE HOPE YOU’LL COME AGAIN He asks, You’re saying this man Hirasawa is innocent then
the battle is over now, the war at an end
THAT YOU MIGHT SPEAK TO ME, THAT YOU MIGHT TALK TO ME Of course he is, I sigh, but they are desperate. They followed the name-cards and this is where it’s led them. But there are seventeen name-cards which have still not yet been traced, that are still not yet accounted for. This man Hirasawa is just one of the seventeen and the moment the survivors set eyes on him, that will be that
with fond farewells and salutes you part
THAT YOU MIGHT TELL ME WHAT TO DO He asks, That will be what, what do you mean
wheeling to the left, then to the right
I CUT MY NAILS, EVERY NIGHT, AT NIGHT The end of their case, I laugh, because the survivors won’t be able to identify Hirasawa, because it wasn’t him, and so then they’ll have to let him go again
in new dances to old tunes
THAT YOU WILL TELL ME WHAT TO DO, PLEASE TELL ME WHAT TO DO Now the journalist says, You really think so
no longer living, no longer human
ABOUT MY WORK, PLEASE TELL ME, ABOUT MY HOUSE I really know so, I say, all of us do, all of us except Ikki and his name-card team. It’s all circumstantial
everyone alien here, everything foreign now
ABOUT MY MOTHER, PLEASE TELL ME, ABOUT MY WIFE He says, But off-the-record your top men are telling us they are 100 per cent certain about Hirasawa Sadamichi, 100 per cent certain he is guilty. That’s why they’ve gone so public with his arrest
nothing is spared
PLEASE TELL ME, ABOUT MY WIFE, PLEASE And, of course, you believe everything you hear, I laugh, everything they tell you. Well, you just watch
no one is spared
NO MORE NIGHT, NO MORE NAILS

28. You have not been listening, Detective, have you
who else would I be, where else would I go
IN THE FAMILY ALBUMS, IN THE HISTORY BOOKS You have not been following instructions
I am still me, I am still here
HAND IN HAND You have not been following orders
to see things, to touch things A
WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING You have been making connections, Detective, haven’t you
what are you talking about, you must have a fever
A SHEEP IN WOLF’S CLOTHING Connections where there are no connections to be made
you must be delirious, who are you talking about
IN THE HISTORY BOOKS, IN THE FAMILY ALBUMS You have been making links, Detective, haven’t you
you give me money, you give me presents, you grab my hand, you grab my crotch
HAND IN HAND Links where there are no links to be made
have you been bitten by a flea, infected with some new form of madness, some new kind of virus or plague A
WOLF ON THE THRONE You have been imagining things, Detective, haven’t you
wasps land on my lips, all men are the same A
SHEEP ON THE THRONE Hearing things, seeing things
the days are long and the world is old, lots of people have stood in the same place
IN THE HISTORY BOOKS, IN THE FAMILY ALBUMS Things that have never been, things that are simply not there, things that will never be
a man can see a lot of things with two good eyes on a sunny day
HAND IN HAND You are suspended from duty, Detective, you are off the case
I am still here, I am still me
THE WOLF AND THE SHEEP

29. In our room, on the floor, on my hands, on my knees, I see it, see it shining, in our room, on the floor, on my hands, on my knees, in the gloom, a golden thing, on the floor, in our room, on my hands, on my knees
among the smoke, among the tunes
UNDER CLOCKS I ask my wife, What is this thing
the winner and the loser
BIG CLOCKS, LITTLE CLOCKS What is what thing, she replies
the occupier and the occupied
WE WAIT FOR DEATH I say, This shining golden thing. Here in my fingers
the master and his dog
ON GREY DAYS, AGAIN AND AGAIN That thing, it’s nothing. It’s just an earring, she
replies
you speak, I jump
A PIECE OF FOOD, IF WE’RE LUCKY I ask, And where did you get this golden earring
I jump, you yell
RATS, IF WE’RE NOT I found it in the street, she says, it’s nothing
you yell, I cower
IN ROOMS I say, But I’ve never found that kind of nothing, that shining golden kind of nothing
I cower, you beat me
ENORMOUS ROOMS, TINY ROOMS My wife says nothing
you beat me, I whimper
WE WAIT FOR DEATH I take a second golden earring, a matching golden earring, out of my pocket, I hold it up to her, I say, I never found that kind of nothing twice
I whimper, you pet me A
KIND WORD, NOW AND AGAIN So what does that make me, she asks, what are you saying
you pet me, I wag my tail A
SMILE, IF WE’RE LUCKY Now I take some money from my pocket, I give it to my wife, I say, I have to go, go back to work
the dog and his master
BLOWS, IF WE’RE NOT I’m a bad person I know, my wife is weeping, I’m bad for you. If I had a sharp knife, I could stab myself. I want to die
the bad dog, the good master
IN ROOMS, UNDER CLOCKS I leave the room, I close the door, I leave the building, I turn another corner, and I’m gone again
among the tunes, among the smoke
WE WAIT FOR DEATH

30. The last name on my list, the last doctor on my list, this one called Sawa Saburo, this one in Funabashi, Chiba Prefecture
across the occupied city, in your borrowed cars
IN OUR HOSPITALS, IN OUR SCHOOLS, AT OUR HOMES, AT OUR JOBS Sawa Saburo had once been a research assistant at the former Japanese Imperial Chemical Laboratory in Tsudanuma, Chiba Prefecture
roads turn to mud, mud turns to rivers
EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY HOUR Sawa Saburo had once been involved in research into the use of prussic acid as a poison
snow turns to sleet, sleet turns to rain, turns to sleet again A
HUNDRED LITTLE COMPROMISES Sawa Saburo was then later promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel and sent to Pingfan, outside Harbin, in Manchuria
there are ambulances, there are crowds
EVERY HOUR OF EVERY DAY Lieutenant Colonel Sawa Saburo was attached to Detachment 731
former soldiers standing in their white robes and khaki caps A
HUNDRED LITTLE DEALS Now Sawa Saburo is living on another dusty highway between a clothing shop and a bar
feral children hanging from the branches of
the shrine-trees
EVERY DAY OF EVERY WEEK Now Sawa Saburo is working in a run-down animal hospital between a bicycle repair shop and a Chinese restaurant
the Nagasaki Shrine to your right, the Teikoku Bank to your left
A HUNDRED LITTLE LIES But Sawa Saburo no longer calls himself Sawa Saburo; Sawa Saburo now calls himself Endo Saiichi
you put out your cigarette, you follow the other detectives, up the steps, into the bank
EVERY WEEK OF EVERY MONTH I open the metal gate in the wooden fence and I step inside the courtyard of the Funabashi Animal Hospital
down the narrow passages, through the heavy furniture
THE GUILTY ARE FREE, THE INNOCENT ARE IMPRISONED The August sun is high in the midday sky and here in the courtyard there is no shade, only row upon row of cage upon cage
between the empty chairs, the rows of desks
EVERY MONTH OF EVERY YEAR In each row there are twelve cages, on each cage is stacked another two cages, and in each cage is a dog
the cash on the desks, in piles, the vomit on the floor, in pools
THESE ARE THE COMPROMISES WE MAKE WITH OURSELVES The place smells of piss, the place smells of shit, the place smells of dogs
in the corridor, on the mats, in the bathroom, on the tiles
MINUTE AFTER MINUTE, HOUR AFTER HOUR, DAY AFTER DAY But the dogs are not barking, the dogs are all silent now
ten bodies, ten corpses
THESE ARE THE DEALS WE SELL TO OURSELVES This place smells of death
the clock on the wall, its black hands still moving
WEEK AFTER WEEK, MONTH AFTER MONTH, YEAR AFTER YEAR A man in a dirty white coat and a dirty white mask, in dirty rubber gloves and dirty rubber boots, steps out of the office now
their hands raised, frozen and petrified, at their throats
THESE ARE THE LIES WE TELL TO OURSELVES The man removes his dirty white mask and he asks, Can I help you
these men, these women, this child
A HUNDRED LITTLE COMPROMISES, A HUNDRED LITTLE DEALS, A HUNDRED LITTLE LIES I take off my hat, I take out my handkerchief, I wipe my face, and I say, Dr Sawa
they died in agony, they died in fear, they died in silence, fallen on each other, lying side by side, faces up and faces down
A THOUSAND TINY CUTS, A MILLION TINY WOUNDS