In the Japanese restaurant

Waiters pad lightly over bamboo floors

As we pluck moist soybeans out of salty shells,

Licking our lips.

Her tongue slips out, laughing,

My eyes float up to the space of the room

Where the paper lantern sways above her head.

Her beautiful broad cheeks uplifted to the light,

The waiter arrives from the unseen, in a hurry,

One boat of tiger prawns, one roll of tekka makki.

Her lips curl around the golden tempura,

She chews in mysterious small bites,

The crispy hard shell of the shrimp tail in her mouth,

The raw fish and rice in mine.

On her face, a look of shameless resilience,

The tough child possessed by secrets from her native sea.

CRA

1/19/2007

9/19/2007