No American in Paris,
No ma'am I do not like baguette.

Here the sun rests perpetual
cooks the sky pink and white
I can slip and slide between a million souls
A splash of coffee creamer
Lost in the machinery.

Fuji-San salutes the sun
A foreign lesion of burning earth
Beyond the respectful attention
Of a careful city perched

Catches the orb, twirls it for a moment
Shadows cast our descent
and yet

Tokyo explodes, light and dine
A big "*******"
to the dark side of the twirl

Where I get drunk and ramble about Tao
Dichotomy and my dying country
To a Konbini attendant
at 3 in the morning

Dreaming
That with enough effort
and a little more east to our west
that we can destinate
A better fate

For that upset continent