an evening in fukuoka
This is my translation of «вечер в фукуоке».
three white guys wait in line patiently
I am taken aside
put at a table
what have you brought point and choose
in broken english ask me the screws
and I in broken japanese reply
clothing shampoo appareil photo
suddenly the mongrel muzzle official
my books in the backpack comes by
blankly stares the sentinel at cummings's verses
and espying a stroke of a woman's breast
tells me whoa boy ain't this what I think
what kind of filth have you stuffed with the rest
my packed away world is turned upside downwards
(empty pill bottles give them the vapours
I—an a priori recidivist
(why a russian with canadian papers
but no marijuana or cocaine
can be found no criminal evidence
putting away my earthly possessions
to the bitches in blue I insist—innocent
boku wa ii hito desu I say
kao wa warui desu ka I ask
and he to me with surprise jobbu desu
as if the shine of his boots to mask
if for you cocksucker it's just a job
you wouldn't only the gaijins shake down
now I've got no time for your slimy small talk
of the pisswater beer in your one-horse town
dura lex what to say but all proof at a loss
I went out (in my thoughts giving the fascists sieg heil
and out on the street a line of cabs
and the city and a long dark mile