Poetry

Izakaya

On a night where anything can happen

follow the trail of red lanterns

into backstreets heavy with anticipation

where the pulse of society crackles at your fingertips

Otoshida arimasuka?

Ikura desuka ka?

Nomihoudai!

Tabehoudai!  

Come, come

Down into the rabbit hole

To worship at the altar of crooners

Humming to jazz on that old jukebox in the corner

Watch salarymen rub shoulders with wastrels

Bonding at the banquet fit for a shogun

Yakitori, yakisoba, yaki-get me another beer

No, make it sake

Gingo, schminjo

Drink until the break of dawn

And stagger back into the half-formed world

Called Monday

3 thoughts on “Izakaya

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