Posted: April 2, 2014 in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,



One night
while rambling
‘round Roppongi,
taking the tour of Tokyo,
not knowing when
to shun the shots
of sake pressed
upon me by my friends,
down Mogumbo’s
stumbling steps I slipped
and cracked my head.

Undaunted by
the bloody dent
I descended
to where some kind
soul staunched the flow
with a damp towel,
a ball cap,
and an ice cold brew.

The next morn,
co-workers, aghast
at the scabby slash
that showed through
thinning scalp,
gingerly iodined
and taped the
cut and wondered
why the night’s
itinerary included no trip
to the emergency room.

Why? I asked.
I thought the wet towel
and ball cap
and cold, cold beer
were medicine enough.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s