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In That Japanese Town Again
In That Japanese Town Again
I was there, too.
Sipping on a medium mug
of American-bought green tea.
(But it's been steeped in for so long.)
But if you try to question
how bitter it tasted,
well, it is not that bitter
—in the greater scheme of things
(Tho', screaming, in my dreams:
"If the Japanese withstood
bombings from the skies
like no other,
then why can't they
go through this one?")
Theirs, once again,
are framed signatures,
like household items
in Kyoto; after funerals that
were faced with protests in the state;
Preservation at its best,
equally interinvolved with caveats
—a newer testament in the Eastern front?
So long, cultural values.
So long, moral values.
Farewell, spiritual values!
