i can remember you smoking. the yakitori
diner warm light in narita. confessing
that my heartbeat feels uncomfortable.
consonants skipping, fetishising language,
realising repeatedly that i am mostly
mechanical. all told there is no irony. i cannot
see the cinema, folding into place, melting
quickly. the subway thrums & pulses. inside
i flip the flipped picture. i can remember
you smoking, end day light bristling off
beige asakusabashi height. this city tows
memory out to sea, knotting fingers in
hair, skin lapping salt against the sides.
i’ll go snowboarding later, face first lips split
on an icicle. you smile through two degrees
of separated feet, an arms length apart,
a spin of the globe away. i can remember
you smoking, disappearing into the sky.
back home perth bursts & simmers in
summer, stars play elevator love letter
& serena relays it wasn’t worth being there.
yosuke & i climb sunshine city to find
high lights red through blurred glass blinking
sofia copolla style. in akihabara with adrian
searching for shock value & finding
male only 18 plus four floors up from
one piece paraphernalia & variations
on totoro plushie. outside the road reels
bass notes, tides of talk, fresh chalk on
fingers, an answer i shouldn’t have given
to follow olivia’s question. i can remember
you smoking. the truth ruins everything
when it dies. electrons in a severed wire.
the trains the trains the trains. the time.
there needs to be a circuit here. a self
reinforced trajectory. the blood of the pacific
current. a cold & foggy morning. reciting
the years calender. my language won’t
live forever. come back to this one later.
i am invading. i am america. i am
a remake of godzilla. i am cliches coming
true at shibuya’s famous crosswalk. i am
the english language labelled version.
i am bill murray; scarlett johansson.
the disney fish market day dissolving.
i am words. i am nothing. nine
floors of shirts neon through me,
regularity guaranteed. i feel it
rumble under my feet. these tunnels
are well worn. i can remember you
smoking. i love you haemoglobin.
this oxygen packs endorphins. it’s
3am, again. karaoke. we had beer & warm
sake. there is no word for fuck, the
closest swear is shitty. you swore
the great gatsby still holds up.
you grab my shirt & pull me. when
you kiss me everything shakes
in & out of focus. my head moshes
into morning. my voice gives out.
i can remember you smoking. it’s
shitty cold in narita. you americans
order so much food & eat
all of it. this i laugh about later
to no-one in particular.
1 November 2015