6am

I met a Nigerian man, in Japan, at an Irish pub. 

Turned my nose up at raw horse meat with a belly full of raw fish.

Wandered Kobe city streets at 4am caught under a caustic drizzle that made me smell the pollution of the night prior. My hair reeked of second-hand smoke. 

Drank Leffe in a European bar with my Jewish friend who swore off a British chemist who's virginity she took. 

Was summoned at a night club by a Spaniard with a comely chiseled face adorned with two long-haired girls from Sri Lanka on both arms.

Listened to Calgary Tom fingerpick his banjo in Osaka at the loneliest of open mic nights.

Waved a western hello to the Japanese dog walker I see on my morning run. After all, we are neighbors.

Sweat through a baby doll dress I attempted to pull over my ample chest on my first effort to go shopping in this mega mall of a country. I had to explain in gesture to the store clerk why I couldn't purchase anything from her pristinely neat clothing store. 

Pretended to peruse fishing rods at a flea market only to lean down far enough to pet a dog while his owner wasn't watching. 

Slept an hour in an all-night karaoke booth before catching the first train home...6am.

I admire Kerouac, Ginsberg and the Beatnik like for their profundity in all of the untrodden open roads and minds of America. I wonder what they would think of my adventures--if they would be considered off-the-Beatnik-path enough to be a genre all their own.