The Flasher In The Red Kimono Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

Grunting over the side garden strip,
weeding the hell out of it,
clad in a Japanese kimono I labor.

Belly cinched by a wide sash a la samurai,
my flab slightly bulging over the belt
despite my wife hating it I feel very Shogun

even though I told her, but to no avail,
Look honey, the Buddha wasn't the worse for it
to which she snapped, You're not even close to him.

No matter. Unbending from my toiling
with nothing under my robe and belt
I feel the cool breeze on Junior and my nuts

and resolve to take a short breather when
these two chicks, one I know the other I don't,
walk over and hand me a flyer

about an upcoming, adults only,
Halloween shindig. Now these ladies don't look
gory at all. To the contrary, the brunette that

cackles with the blonde suddenly lifts her
sunshades and shows me an obvious sparkle
in her oblong milk chocolate eyes.. or were they gray.

With nothing beneath my kimono to weigh me down
my Samurai sword lifts my garment
hinting to enact upon these lovely sylphides

a quickie seppuku but this newcomer chick
doesn't lose her cool. Cuddling into me
she murmurs, Nice meeting you.