Camus asked us to imagine
Sisyphus happy.
People que for masks,
in Kaohsiung City.
An English poet, sits by
the roadside and writes
about life on an island.
Two lines on the paper,
and still no words being said.
I can imagine that Sisyphus
is happy, mending his fence
and waiting for the spring
rain to arrive.
A slow swing,                                             to an imaginary lover.