They look me over
all conversation stops as I enter the room.
refusing to meet my eyes
they surmise
she’s different than us
cluck cluck tsk tsk
she can’t even speak Japanese
don’t serve her any green tea.
A very quiet crowd (I think)
I make small talk desperately
they answer reluctantly —
all in Japanese
what does she eat
they sniff and snoop
what is in her bento box
no steamed white rice, no pickled plums
what kind of girl is this
who brings lunch in a paper bag?
Weeks pass by its always the same
the silence is choking my air
so today I plan to bring my sweet flan
to soften their scaly hides.
As I stand outside the luncheon door
the laughter, the sharing, the laughter
are they talking about me?
her husband is Puerto Rican, Reiko says
she smells of garlic and black beans
why is she here
she’s hybrid trash
their words recoil round the room
as I open the door
my flan flies across the floor
splattering everywhere
on the chairs on their hair
on their Nisei frosted faces
on their age old, yellowed pearls
they cried and gasped
and I laughed,
and I laughed
Genie Nakano
September 7, 2021, word count 219
Beautiful Bento lunch with white steamed rice and one pickled plum on top.
Nisei: Second generation Japanese who immigrated before WW2 to America and other countries. In this poem–America.
Genie Nakano 
Thanks Joyce. I really liked your new title “Nisei Bitches Luncheon . I ended up calling it No Green Tea, but thinking of changing it to your title and posting it on You know your JA when…on facebook.
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I like this nisei poem
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more thoughts…Yes, I would love to read a poem about this . I have friends who move around and wonder how it affects their children and the parents too. Sometimes we keep thoughts inside.
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Thank you Cheryl. Your experience would make a poem. I often wonder how children of parents who have to move around feel.
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Genie, my family moved every two or three years when I was growing up…always the new kid! Reading this poem made me remember how that felt. Then I thought of how cruel kids can be to anyone who is “different.” I was always “different” as well as new in town. How I longed to fit in! Your poem captures the feeling perfectly!
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Thanks Janet. Yes, it was a very hard time–over 40 years ago and still left a mark. I hope things have gotten better. But I’m not sure?
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Hi Genie,
Thank you for sending. I read so much emotion in your writing. You painted much emotion in your words. Love to read your poetry.
Janet
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