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.