the sushi chef wore one long latex glove and pale it was too;

it came up to his right shoulder while

he was slicing fifteen eyeballs in half. i was thinking

i should have ordered only five - they were brown eyes.

they made perfect maki, however. clever parrots brought them in hard beaks

to the table, dropping them delicately onto my plate one at a time

before making their way back down my clothes, down table cloths

to fetch the next delicacy of eyeball;

the chef gave me his glove to wear

and it was stained.

suddenly i was in two minds about the order

but i wasn't letting on.

i could sense their paranoia.

the fish, i mean.

seasofme301115parallaxis

i really enjoyed this dream