To talk about things from your bottom,
To brush your teeth after eating,
And to bow deeply in greeting.
I’ve joined in with most,
But hacking on the street is gross,
I also don’t enjoy
How they talk about me, like a ploy.
Some traditions however are lush,
And should be exported in a rush,
Like to celebrate anything with offerings of food,
And to insist on slippers at work, if you would.
You see, as a foreigner I stand out,
And it didn’t help that I clip clopped about.
But now I have the correct foot attire,
I no longer have to tip toe and cower.
They may still look at me and then whisper,
But they don’t know I’m catching on quicker,
And now I’m one of the sickers,
I’m so happy that I have my slippers.