Another bus journey

This is to the trees that are coming towards me, trying to reach out, shake their leaves inside. This is to the puddles that still glisten on the double yellow lines, but can't touch me because I'm sitting on a bus. Little man wearing an orange shirt and a red cycle helmet, you're going a different way. The traffic lights floating somehow in the sky, I know they're for me, as the person sitting at the front, I get to see it all, my view is so wide. I'm waiting for you, here at this corner, with the gasping of stickmen, on this bus with its chirps of canaries instead of deep rattling, but me, trembling in time with its journey.

Japanese, circles, A Gate, eyelids, dreams, caffeine

My Japanese classes have ended for this school year, and people brought sushi and pretty cakes to eat. I am now trying to translate Douglas Coupland's "God Hates Japan" into English. Part of the first sentence might say "End of the high school year's events".
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A man jogged around in circles on the pavement. I could see his well-pronounced leg muscles.
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There are signs on the Avenue that say "A Gate", when it's not a gate, definitely not a gate.
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If I remove my eyelids, will you look into my eyes forever, without blinking, without looking away, but deeply, tenderly, intensely, so that I can look back
into yours and inhale, soak up the sight of your eyes with my gaze, bathe my retinas with that view?
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French quiz: Garden is not a form. That's what I dreamt.
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It's a particular bit of skin underneath my eyes that feels different, maybe differently stretched, after I've had too much caffeine and am far too wide-eyed.