One Thing I Won't Eat

the restaurant where we go has a
neon sign on the roof that I can
see from my back door.

on our bikes Evie and I sail
through my neighborhood past
the white dog and his rope, across
the road with the canal in the
middle and the chirping walk
signal and come to rest before
Sushi Waka.

Entering: "Irashai" and tea
and wasabi and shoyu
and nama beer
yes two and thank
god we're not at work.

The dishes come by swept
around and around in their magic
ballet-the beauties.

the unagi (that Evie loves)
the sea chicken (that I love)
the cool kappa maki
the sour shinki maki
the ika and the taco both curling and suckered
the sake and
the magero (the fatty tuna belly- like a gift- red as a sundae
cherry)

The dishes stack and she
reinforces all my opinions and agrees
and nods and cackles,

if my mouth wasn't full negotiating
the removal of ebi tails with my
tongue, I might be
tempted to comment on how
marvelous and full this desperate
love is I have for her.

This interlacing of fingers
this closed system
this nation born in recognition of common enemies.