All You Are In the Tokyo Night is a...

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.