I am drinking a beer
And waxing philosophical
On topics like war, and peace
Moby ****
White whales and insane old men
Reminds me of my grandfather
Which brings me to the topic
Of my grandmother
My Japanese grandmother
“coochi” grandma—our name for her
because her yellow skin hung in folds

I am drinking a beer
And the heavy feeling in my head makes me honest
And I am musing about my life and my father
Who has always been the magnet
To my compass
That I have worked so hard to deny
But my needle is true.

I am drinking a beer.
And thinking about my culture
And how I want to visit the bright
Streets of a Japan
That aren’t bright after those quakes
I am thinking about cleaning those streets
And holding the hard, cold men that have lost
Quiet, soft wives, until they are healed.

The ocean would hug you like a lover
Deep blue kisses on your salty sides
Chestnut gleaming, rich color beauty
Wet from the constant lapping of waves

Do you know, that I wouldn’t mind the barnacles
They’d hold on like small wrinkles that remind you
Of where you’ve been, and what you’ve found
Rough, white whale skin memory on my bow

And the captain, oh the captain
He would turn the wheel with sea worn knowledge
Delighting in the feel of my movement underneath him
My silk insistent ****** through the waves

White ivory stained sails would direct heavy wind
Against heavy boat, moving stubborn against pliant
Traveling fast and then slow again until banked
In the colorful confused grace of a crowded marina

the unrelenting cry of those sea birds wouldn’t bother me
instead I’d sing hungry with them
about the low hanging flat bottomed clouds that make me nervous, too
and danger that the doldrums whisper in my ears