Keeping my hand in; Ucchan will be pleased, if I know Ucchan. Inspired by
David Pascal's Allen Ginsberg pastiche "Howeru," and too little sleep.

   I normally don't like fan poetry, but "Howeru" sends chills up my spine, and
I really believe it's as much David Pascal's doing as the residual work of
Ginsberg. A better genuine tribute to anime fandom I've rarely read. At any
rate, it broke my writers block.

   Comments welcome.

   Let he who is intelligent deduce the Ginsberg poem this work takes as its
model.

Paul Corrigan
corrig11@pilot.msu.edu

A Comic Shop in Michigan

for David Pascal

   What thoughts I have of you tonight, Hideaki Anno, for I walked down the
sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious musing on Sailor
Moon.
   In my fatigue, to shop for new images, I went into the neon genesis market,
dreaming of your animations!
   What posters and what pencilboards!  Ersatz families shopping at night!
Aisles full of otaku! Fanboys in the anime, fangirls in the manga--meanwhile,
Kunihiko Ikuhara, what were you doing over the road in the rosebushes?

   I saw you, Hideaki Anno, friendless, lonely old fanboy, poking through the
titles in the new releases and eyeing the yaoi fangirls.
   I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed Kaji? What price rentals?
Are you my Angel?
   I wandered in and out of the brilliant aisles of fans following you, and
followed in my imagination by a NERV operative.
   We strode around the open shelves together in our solitary fancy browsing
magazines, possessing every garage model kit, and never passing the cashier.

   Where are you going, Hideaki Anno? The doors close in a hour. What course
does Exelion chart tonight?
   (I touch my Eva manga and dream of our odyssey in the comic shop and
face the Hedgehog's Dilemma.)
   Will we watch all night in solitary rooms?  The screen adds shade to shade,
lights out in apartments, we'll both be lonely.
   Will we stroll dreaming of the lost Japan of childhood past Honda Accords in
driveways, home to our silent prison?
   Ah, dear brother, elder, lonely old dream-teacher, what Second Impact did
you have when Minmei quit singing her song and you washed up on a lifeless
strand and stood watching the siren disappear on the red waters of Tartarus?

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