Having been seated at an ancient Hinoki bar.
Book ended by two Asian waifs.
A chore girl makes a broken glass.
The woman’s bath door left ajar.
Drinking from a bowl of bamboo grass.
Pottery bowing to Nara’s landscapes.
Flooded with looks caught from afar.
At the timeless moment, the mind escapes.
A buck toothed waitress with a turned up ass.
Sake takes me to the beaches of Madagascar.
Black Kabuki teeth painted with tar.
Round eyes considered crass.
In north Hokkaido I hear of Shogun’s, nothing of the czar.
Toilet smells of burnt sassafras.
Her back rests on the long grains of cypress.
I think of times with Geoffrey Baris.
Hunting an Oxley Gar.
The head bounds for the pink star.
Ancient emperors fortune to amass.
In my burnished mind I am safe.
My tide slightly above par.
I feel the new moon rising, the old to pass.
Check please.
