Six

Iced coffee at dinner,

mixed with shochu.

After, we visit

an ojiisan bar

where a woman high on speed,

with Blondie swag,

rests her head of thick

grey hair

on the couch’s arm.

As her eyes close

I think,

I’m happy she’s made it

this far,

and for the first time

see a white braid

falling down my back.

four

I see the same spider

I saw yesterday

on the floor.

I swat her away,

gently changing her course.

She lands on the bed

and I’m reminded,

I often make matters

worse. The bed is my dream,

my own cave, arousing me

like the real caves arouse Cai.

I’m beginning to understand 

how desiring 

myself

makes me desirable 

to others.

Now, when I remember

conversations with girlfriends

about masturbation,

the way they spoke about it

makes sense.

Although it seems

I have to press harder than them.

three

For the first time, I begin to know a different city. Betrayal feels important. To be able to bike through a city that is not my own. Crashing when I’m not even on the bike. Four purple to blue to green souvenirs. I look forward to showing them off. To be asked, What happened? Cared for in a new city. My room sits empty back at home. I hope my glass animals and dolls feel the freedom to move, like I explained to them before leaving. 

one

Cai brought five writing dresses for five days on the ocean. Black waves with silver on top, like sticky fur, curl into white. I tell her she does look like the moon. She’s been told this before. As the sun sets, the ocean matches the color of my eyes, or maybe it’s just a reflection. So often when I’m writing it is set in the immediate place. Writing about the ocean at the ocean. Where do I go to write about the past?

This sake tastes

like cake.

We’re back

at Goldrush,

where the pole dancer

with blue contacts

leans over the table,

her hands wet 

from perspiring glasses.

Her breasts are exposed

only slightly

through the cutout

on her dress.

She doesn’t pay attention to me

and I feel undesired.

I’d buy her a drink, too!

Fold fake yen bills into her sheer socks.

One of the boys I’m with

acquires two numbers:

hers, and another dancer’s,

who tells me she wants to dance in New York,

but is too skinny.

Back at the ryokan,

the boy tells us the dancer is coming over.

It feels like we are at summer camp

or jail

or an orphanage,

all the men spread out on mats.

The only other girl and I share a room just down the hall,

and the hotel employee frowns

as we enter the boys room.

Presumptuously,

we imagine the dancer coming 

is the one aspiring for New York,

a city I’m trying to escape.

Blue eyes walks in, her natural brown eyes shining

and her peach milk skin 

completely covered by a silk black top and pant set.

I fall in love with her even more.

how do i tie together
asylum
and cloud karaoke
do it for the girl.
how many nights
will we get drunk?
little sake bottles
from the 7/11
white bread sandwiches
with the crust cut off
filled with fish and mayonnaise
and how many stray cats
will we see
sitting on motorcycles
jumping up in the air
like a cartoon
either go home before
midnight
or stay out
until the sun rises
i have to make
decisions
when the whole trip
was impulsive

Missing all the girls I’ve loved

Of course the one time I wasn’t depressed was in a fantasy

Land filled with girl.

The mailwoman who has the only other key to my private locker.

The girl with the kitty cat smile, slicked back pony with one rebellious tuft.

Missing the romance moment that I never had

The sober one

The sleepover.

Instead of

Flared ribs jutting out of a black leotard

With each breath, laid

On a hardwood floor covered in itchy carpeting

The same brand of tobacco and beer

Swimming between our mouths,

Pretending I was as wild as she.

Promising boys I’d kiss them when Dr. removed my braces.

Blaming the retainer’s potential to fall out. I can’t waste all of this money

my parents spent for straight teeth.

Talking to Kayla years later, we lament our cute tooth imperfections,

and I wonder if we’re really talking about kissing girls.

Everything would have turned out better for us

if you still had your gap

and my right canine still overlapped with its neighbor.

Gum Street

Pavement polka dotted with gum and melted rubber

I descend into the tunnels

And remember my quack

Telling me,

Turn your rabbit hole

Into a pothole.

A woman in the station tells me she is going to jump

So I hold on tight and wait to die.

The train comes and a man in a red shirt grabs her

I tell him, this is my train, and he nods

In the direction of the open doors.

The rest of my ride I stare

At one page in my book

And wonder if she was bluffing.

Obsession with Cars

Wearing polka dots in the desert like

Something that doesn’t belong

A little sparkling city in a new red world

That won’t let you bring a piece back

Leaving big red

And it’s lost in one night

No memories, or scents of the desert

Just my polka dot dress and

Glittery windows

Like sequins

As I descend from the sky

Scrolling through the same night stories

Growing up without radio drives

And hearing all these trucker songs

About Teddy and trucker heaven

I wonder - what is it that we love here?

Not the simple things.

Backflips and hat tricks still don’t get you money

Everyone has seen it before and forgot

It is magic.

On a drive there’s nothing else but forward.

Never Eat Salty Worms

Never Eat Shredded Wheat

Never Eat Slimy Worms

Never Eat Soggy Waffles

Never Ever Smoke Weed

Never Eat Soggy Wafers

Never Eat Soggy Weatbix

Instinct

And yet

I still don’t know how to drive.

A long poem written in Asagaya:

Cai tells me her grandmother

Is an egret.

We see one land on a tall tree

At dusk.

Pearl white in a quickly changing blue sky.

I tell her about Jan

And the dove that visited us

And we agree

The dead become birds.

Of course!

Finally free to fly,

To watch from above.

The following morning

We walk home after a night of

Tequila and shochu.

The sound of birds fill the air.

To be so festive in the morning like,

Hey, you did it,

You made it to a new day!

They cheer for us.

But if we’ve stayed awake

Through the night

Is it a new day?

Stumbling upon a cemetery in Asagaya

We hear a rustle in the graves.

Perhaps a cat,

Like the ones in Buenos Aires.

Or a stone fox, the spirits’ protector.

Why do birds and cats stay

Slaves to the food chain in life,

When in death they become

Protected and protector?

Walking along the river

A group of nine to eleven year old boys approach us.

Some of them wear bicycle helmets.

The obvious leader holds a soccer ball.

They ask Cai to dance

And we soon realize

They are watching her breasts bounce

Under her pink mesh top.

Further down the river we sit at the bench

Where all the cats congregate.

Cai says she met a small old woman

Who comes every Saturday at five

With cans of cat food.

But she’s not there

And the cats are disinterested.

Most of them are white

Like the egrets,

With orange or brown markings.

They are so white in the dark soil.

So clean, like this city.

They each sit in front of their own tree

Coiled atop the roots

Like flowers.

A walking man stands and waves

At the cats

And all the passing dogs

Wear LED collars

Like little ravers.

Tropical Beach, Okinawa

There are street speakers

Everywhere in Japan.

A soundtrack for your walk to work,

Even here at the beach

At the edge of this island.

I try to identify the difference

Between the beach here

And back at home.

It somehow feels more

Endless

The sand more noticeable

Under my feet.

Dead coral that still

Looks beautiful

When it’s dead,

Unlike most things.

A taxi driver smiles at me

Above his newspaper.

A woman gives me a tissue

Through the bathroom stall.

There aren’t any toilet paper dispensers.

Just used pads in the trash can.

It’s hard to describe the exact flavor

Of orange reflecting

On the water at dusk

And the sun dips

So fast it’s a race

Between the persimmon

Glazed water and

The light that binds us.

This is the only point in the day

Where I’m reminded

Just how fast the earth turns.

The sun falls

From Okinawa, Japan

Into the New York skyline.

The ferris wheel is in the distance now

Getting brighter

As the sun sets.

It doesn’t even turn, just lights up

Like a firework

And I never thought

I’d feel so relieved being away

From carnival lights.

This carnival was

Tequila sunrise

And

Pink cushioned VIP.

Young men

With 1 AM curfews,

Six years of

Ghosts in their rooms,

And wanting girls

Even more desperately than before.