Tokyo

She is more than huge, she is blatantly contradictory.

She’s American-ish, but Japanesey;

Familiar but exotic;

Traditional but wildly avant garde.;

Savoring but guzzling;

Giddily young but staidly elderly.

Near Shinjuku station it’s girls in blue jeans

And tiny kimono-clad matrons popping into Starbucks.

This immigrant from Seattle sits amid metallic, glitzy structures

And Times Square shaming electric signage.

There is no downtown but a dozen downtowns

Strung like beads around the circling Yamanote Line.

We jump on and off like locals, sampling each one.

Ikebukuro, Ueno, Okachimachi, Akihabara .

Later the bullet train pulls into Shin-Yokohama,

Long, low and unapologetically futuristic.

It’s the 6:00 o’clock bound for Kyoto.

We grab a Mc Donalds before boarding.

A few blocks away, in a tranquil garden

A heron dips its beak

And sends the moon gyrating .

Travels | Tokyo