but Kurosawa's characters survive
not like cowboys with belt-hooked thumbs
not like Keanu with sunglasses intact
and a minor adjustment of tie
or a pinballing Spiderman
quipping gaily in a thought bubble
very rarely like warriors, fighter-plane deadly
and bear-sore
but mostly with the a quiver full of humanity
Their hands tremble - they plummet to knees
the way fruit tumbles. Lines like fork lightning
strike across their features. They whimper.
They bawl. They plot out loud
and yelp,
and grin even when it's raining.
They shout out promises,
skip to their feet
and hang around in crowds.
And they sing - not overdubbed by a pro -
but, deep or shrill, with teary eyes
and a voice threatening to fail.
