.
Lost in transaction

By Adam Gibson










on my first ever night in tokyo
i'm not so much lost in translation
as i am lost in transaction,
the 'American hamburger sandwich'
i just ate, i realise uneasily after the fact,
costing me over forty Australian dollars
and now sitting precariously in my belly,
possibly preparing for immediate escape;
ouch.

while i have a yen for different places
it seems the Yen isn't so keen on me
and while i was never good at maths
i never pretended or aspired to be,
however currency rates i was never bad at
but this exchange has got the better of me

and Tokyo from this hotel window
looks to me across the night
like Botany in Sydney, or Alexandria:
orange lights of industrial estates,
wharehouses and
white light-commercial vehicles lurking,
planes landing low overhead with
screaming fuselage and metal-fatigued wing.

in a city of 12 million people
i can see no human soul
and only feel a dull buzz from the night
that indicates people exist out there
so while i am lured on one level by
the prospect of exploration
i pass up on the possibility
and head down to the empty hotel bar
only to find Scarlett Johannson
has instead opted to stay in her room.