these past two nights have been jay gatsy dreams, roaming on penthouse rooftops mid-drift between the pink lights of drunken little italy and the casual flirting of tipsy stars, climbing fire escapes like fire, throwing it down for shrimps as big as corn dogs, trays of sashimi, and downing raging bulls and screwdrivers like holy water, the luxury of disco noir, the digital double vision of ming and ping, i'm moved like seasick busrides, pages on murakamis at japanese bookstores, and shabu shabu spitfire water, we're lost in translation