A poem I wrote for school, yet again. |
All You Are In the Tokyo Night Is a Pinball Bouncing in a sea of pinballs. business suits and kimonos rolling down in waves the sumi-masen reflex from lips in tiny tight smiles down on streets teeming with Matchbox cars black slashes down the signs hiding speed limits alleys where the dark hides itself the army of giants dressed in glass and concrete and their stretches for the tinted-glass sky a neon inferno burning up the boulevard the neon winks neon wrapping concrete, climbing buildings like vines the second sun of neon into the karaoke bar’s smile an empty glass’s echo off the counter sake evaporating under sunny dispositions the melting of all reservations the boozey swerves toward your seat sounds of hand on hand violence and the last hanging notes of She’s a Lady toward the cocoa centers of her milky eyes’ dart to the side soft white fingers hiding giggles the sheer drop of her pencil-mark hair off her leaning white forehead the flash, the Polaroid catching you with her two stretched fingers the sheets her blouse would’ve matched just right her little candy footsteps fading off in the midnight dark through the twists of tiny one ways pavement tied in knots buildings spanning like mirrors on mirrors the sun shuffling in its sleep a fall through a familiar door a quiet thud on the soft tatami blankets rolling you up like sushi the city’s black pulse beating on the ricepaper walls and all you were in that Tokyo night was a pinball bouncing. |