A Stranger
In America
I can
walkabout
in anonymity,
a person of little consequence—
not celebrated athlete,
nor foul-mouthed rapper,
nor extra handsome movie star.
But, turn me loose
in rural Japan
and I become
a fascinating object of interest—
a steaming meteorite fallen from the sky—
causing murmurs of surprise,
“gaijin, gaijin, gaijin”
mothers pointing, whispering to their children,
and turned heads—
a foreigner,
not of us—
an unwashed soybean in a cup of rice—
a white blemish not to be over-looked.
And there, for all to see,
stranded,
me,
a tentative celebrity,
without a word of Japanese
in my pocket.
