A reply to a musician doing a song about Japanese women wearing cheap perfume

A reply to a musician doing a song about Japanese women wearing cheap perfume
CHEAP PERFUME _ A poem by Yuri Kageyama

that whiff snuggled in the commuter train
it makes him want to puke, he says
cheap suit, chubby arms, fat feet
she is smug and straight, he feels
rushing to work, she squirts it on
escape in a heavenly scent, dream of a faraway world
a sculptured bottle costs 3,000 yen
lots of zeroes fewer than what fashion usually costs
Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci, Marc Jacobs, Chanel No. 5
a well-earned chance to inject that glitz high
a fragrant aura like an “OL” halo
to protect all women against chauvinist evil
it doesn’t take that much to know
No PERFUME ever comes CHEAP

Ara-Saa (short for Around Thirty in Japanese)

around thirty
you’ve turned the corner
past your expiration date
still looking for mr right
clinging to a sex in the city view on life
strutting the career highway on jimmy choos
while your market value drops
a chloe bag on an outlet rack
there’s no space, get real,
between the cute nymphomaniac teen and
the victorious pregnant housewife
except for trips to massage salons
giggly ethnic dinners out with the girls
nowhere affairs with the married boss
stop wondering why
no one good asks you out
stop asking why
no one notices
you’re smart, beautiful, on-the-go,
in top notch belly-dancing-lessons shape
and ever so available
life is not a Yahoo auction
life is not a Disneyland make-a-wish-list
you must stop
and ask yourself
how you can become
that person
who can love
without asking
in return

For women only

For women only

rubbing shoulders,
we rattle silently over the tracks
blouses, tucked bags, even powdered chins,
up too close to really see;
we sense only relief
we smell no greasy beards or sweaty suits or
beer breath of the morning after _
this morning commuter train
“josei senyo sha”
for women only,
introduced to protect the gentle sex
from those groping dark hands
preying prying fingers, stroking thigh,
poking panties,
pretending to be penises
right in public transport,
“josei senyo sha”
this is the kindness of Japanese society:
let chikan go unchecked,
forgiven for their mischief,
and give us, women, this special spot
farthest from the action
farthest from the ticket gates
the first car up front,
and the most dangerous
if we crash

SuperMom: A Poem for All Working Women With Children

Poetry by Yuri Kageyama.

SuperMom is the Mother in “The Terminator,” fearless, sinewy, a mother like no other.
SuperMom risks her life to save her child.
SuperMom risks her life to save the world.
SuperMom _ the mother of all mothers.
SuperMom, Mother, Mama, Okaasan!
SuperMom is never found in kitchens barefoot and wears boots to march to work.
SuperMom doesn’t make obento.
SuperMom shops at Ichi-Maru-Kyu.
SuperMom _ the mother of invention.
SuperMom, Mother, Mama, Okaasan!
SuperMom doesn’t gossip with other moms but makes her own money, pays tuition and buys you sneakers.
SuperMom doesn’t aspire to be on the cover of Nikkei Woman.
SuperMom just minds her keep.
SuperMom _ a motherfucking worker.
SuperMom, Mother, Mama, Okaasan!
SuperMom endures, her womb red and heavy and big and open, wrenching out babies and seaweed and stench.
SuperMom spurts out curdled milk like a fountain in the desert.
SuperMom is the origin of origins.
SuperMom _ the bottom of the sea.
SuperMom, Mother, Mama, Okaasan!
SuperMom teaches the primordial instinct of nurturing the species, the legacy of creation, the courage of the Artist.
SuperMom shows by example.
SuperMom leaves the message that nothing counts except Who You Are.
SuperMom _ the bottom of the earth.
SuperMom, Mother, Mama, Okaasan!