Lost in Translation

There’s rain on my window at 3 A.M.

But I can’t hear it

Over the loud clatter of ice cubes

In Bill Murray’s whiskey

 

And how could the sound

Of Scarlett Johansson’s naked

Feet on her bedspread

Be louder than the wind

 

6 inches from my head

As I lie here waiting for sleep

To kick down my door

And drag me away from Tokyo epilepsy

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2 thoughts on “Lost in Translation

  1. Well done good sir, looking forward to reading more poems from the project. Are you sure that it’s Scarlett Johannson’s feet that you meant to reference? I seem to remember a different opening shot…

    • Thanks for the support, Kristian – we’re honored to have such an upstanding member of the literary society perusing our work. The poem was almost entitled “foley,” as there is some pretty aggressive foley artistry in the film, including a particularly deafening set of unshod footsteps on silk hotel sheets by the aforementioned miss Johannson. However the opening shot is indeed worthy of reference. Perhaps in another poetry project.

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