This piece will only appeal to avid readers of Haruki Murakami. If you don’t read him, you should. The following poem, written for his fans, will act much like Jeffrey Lebowski’s rug, it will tie the whole room together.

 

coffee

tea

tofu

someone bearing the name

of a food or a spice

elephants

cats

vanishing elephants and cats

spouses

vanishing spouses

empty wells

vacant houses

tokyo at night

prostitutes

suicide

strangulation

coffee houses

motorcycles

inheritance

ironing

world war II

earthquakes

faceless men

mysterious women

creepy psychics

train stations

abandonment

noisy birds

alternate realities

parallel universes

massage

coming in your pants

rape

dowagers

groceries

bad dreams

creepy investigators

all knowing uncles

erections

whiskey

scotch

beer

NHK television

someone who wants to have sex you

for a mystical reason

water

rain

verandas

brothels

odd teenagers

chaotic jazz

depressing classical music

vinyl records

dormitories

letter writing

ear fetish

cooking

sofa naps

contemplating death

still more contemplating death

clothing

footwear

sitting on benches

stars

moon

unexpected phone calls

sleep