Lift Travel's Weight My Eighty Six Proof

Osaka: I stand swift in this hallway's soft noise
rasping my drags quick just stalling time for bed
nicotine and drinking, appalling sense of habits
and but suck back another day's foresight dread

on my feet: only pair, they're lead shoes I cannot wear
and are filled with feelings which to bare is unjust
complain less I should, company I share is far the best
but hard luck: so unfair is my love that I trust


...
a week into this trip I look back now, already
on my learned time in Japan- a gaijin stranger
and find myself struggling to keep steady
from exponentially, rapidly tiring and aging

but filled with awe I am and amazement
forever aware, knowing every step I take is trod
and the snow where I am now lends a haze
that is slowing my travel's emotional plod

though, here I paid cost; I lost my gloves at the station
my black leather ones: soft and especially warm
and for my grief I've only me to blame
but of the cold grips my fingers I was not warned

anyway, the rod that I've been propping myself with
is bending, not needed for these roads
are shaping themselves and giving lift
for the white that reflects me less alone

tonight dear, I'll warm up for my glass of Suntory Whisky
and thoughts embedded, due it's eighty-six-proof, how I miss you