POEMS


510 West Sixth Street

It was the late seventies and another hung over Monday morning when I was re-hired at the Toriko Corporation by my old boss Bobbo after the Mannan Foods gig went sour

It turned out that a white boy working for the Japanese could get dicey

That certainly turned out to be the case for Bob, but didn’t stop me from throwing another bet on the Nijongo crap table 

On Tuesday morning, my second day back, the boss Torizuka-San blew into town unexpectedly with a pimply faced kid named Warren from the Tokyo office

It turned out to be a long week of going to Little Tokyo piano bars after work till early morning hours, drinking one Chivas after the other with the Shatzho and Warren with his unsightly acne

the carrying on made me feel disloyal by Bob’s absence

When Friday afternoon rolled around all hell broke loose

I spoke little Japanese but knew what grumbling tirades from angry men meant in almost any language
Bob acted indignant when they called him on the carpet for cooking the books and pocketing undisclosed amounts of cash

The stealing couldn’t be proved, but some form or wrongdoing was obvious when Bobbo became defensive and haughty

When the day was over, my new boss was Warren Mihori and I wasn’t sure how I’d get used to his unsightly skin problem