This old fucking man what does he know about systems
and what is good policy versus bad
all he knows is that he doesn’t want to make noise
for the rest of the room while they sleep
yelling at me at five in the morning
Mr Terashima you can go to hell
He passive-aggressively folds his sheets, neatly,
like a warped child, tells me about the world
and its young people I clutch his change
and sip my cold English breakfast
relishing my small victory, & the policy
I can hear his opinions bubbling
“Domo” I say. Good morning an’ all.
With a smile like that you really can’t tell
what’s next. I thought he was a good man
he may be still, just quite unforgiving,
and over-polite to the point of aggravation
but he can still go to hell.
