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My Favorite Place
I walk in, sit down, and she lights the single candle in the darkness.
She knows what I want. I am her favorite and she is mine.
Her skin glows in the flickering flame and I watch her as she prepares to delight me.
It’s always the same. Her offering is sweet, sublimated, borne upon the cool layers of white linen, in the shadow of a dim corner.
Warm and slightly saline.. soft as cream.
A feast for the hungry soul of me.
Cool to the touch at first, warming to tangy, and I savor every subtle nuance, every fragrance, unpeeling the secret petals,
like a flower opening,
layer by layer, deeper into the core, until at last, the salty brine of a satisfying finale.
I reach over for my glass..she fills it.
I leave money on the linens for her..and drink deeply of her warm saki.
I am satiated for now, but the hunger always returns.
She knows my weakness. I am addicted to her sushi.
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