Trans Pacific

A tornadic swirl
of karaoke enthusiasts
wasted on plum wine and whiskey
did Charlie disgorge
upon a Tokyo sidewalk.

The über-urban world
appeared a neon neoplasm
on his jet lagged brain
which began a smoggy contemplation
on the positive predictive probability
of Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson.

Among the taxi throng
he thought he heard
the slow suck
his aimless globtrot
exerted on the liquidity
of his waning accounts.

Exhaling Dunhill smoke
and a gust of resignation
Charlie grinned to think
of others who gazing on
the batting of false lashes and
the pout of lush red painted lips
reached between a Thai's svelte thighs
to find and unexpected appendage
at his fingers' tips.