Poem On Japanese Society: the Midnight Train Poem by john tiong chunghoo

Tokyo, the last Sobu train
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midnight tokyo sobu train
the obese pumpkin shaped mama
speaks a chilly tale in the
disturbing winter quiet
her thick mascaras unmask her age
in a funny way, cartoonish and sad
they feel like putting red lipstick on the backside of a baboon
her wrinkles work lines on her thick pallid makeup
age builds up pressure in the female kind like steam trains -
they chug, run to their destinations shrilling and wailing
leaving behind dreams billowing in
a column of diminishing smoke

the years are locked in the
ounce of accessories
on her face, on her white
velvety dress and her thinning hair behind a rigid thick wig
that sends out the message that she would stand
on her own - even when life has been this tough like this deceiving crown of fake-dom

she looks for the yen with its cranes where every zero
is an extra asset to carry home
the large turquoise ring on her finger seems to be the only comforts exuding from her forlorn personae echoing in the spacious
last train of the day
she looks here, there, empty minded, tired and blue in spirit;
all these nights of
entertaining middle age men talking sweet nothing to
cheer up their monotonous existence
she smiles to herself that she could do this this well - dont these men know she is as hardout as they are? desiring for a space of her own to breathe for love?

the electric train is painfully
familiar now; it is always running to a destination - like her
the only difference is hers is forever illusive as chasing rainbow

John Tiong Chunghoo