Little boxes, sweep against the green firs and strut among each other.
In the middle wires reach, drawing me onward towards Tokyo, and
Away from the peaceful tourist-trap of Kyoto.
My contribution is several pieces of paper and a fan.
The machines take my ticket. There are three shots left on the roll.
Five bags, I think. Like a metamorphosis,
I have come undone.
The sparse traveller grows, my hair is shorter, my group
Has swollen by one, there are presents, books, new shoes,
The outline of a pavilion that was lost.
To me Japan is rice fields, wild flowers gently tweaked to submission.
The soft circling of birds of prey against the noontime sky. Ramen. Hot mochi.
I will take you to my izakaya for sashimi that will have you throwing out cooking pots in wild abandon.
Nama beer-u onegaishimas
Japan is the first, long draught to quench this thirst.
In the middle wires reach, drawing me onward towards Tokyo, and
Away from the peaceful tourist-trap of Kyoto.
My contribution is several pieces of paper and a fan.
The machines take my ticket. There are three shots left on the roll.
Five bags, I think. Like a metamorphosis,
I have come undone.
The sparse traveller grows, my hair is shorter, my group
Has swollen by one, there are presents, books, new shoes,
The outline of a pavilion that was lost.
To me Japan is rice fields, wild flowers gently tweaked to submission.
The soft circling of birds of prey against the noontime sky. Ramen. Hot mochi.
I will take you to my izakaya for sashimi that will have you throwing out cooking pots in wild abandon.
Nama beer-u onegaishimas
Japan is the first, long draught to quench this thirst.
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