This is what I remember, before you left:
The fibrous tearing crunch through seaweed
into rich salty salmon,
the calm click of slides changing
(the sea; gliding fish;
anemones like reaching hands),
our sensual conspiracy of smiles,
your extravagant thinness and elegance of line,
the clink of lovely white china
and the warm antiseptic sake
slicing the gullet, seizing the lungs.
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