Eating tako-wasabi as a stranger alone

Sometimes you're somewhere else,

somewhere new, on an adventure.

Far from the maddening mundanities

of the daily grind.

In times like these, I view myself as a fish,

or some kind of aquatic creature at least.

One that's smart, fast, daring

and curious.

Reaching out into the great unknown

to grasp at something intangible,

there yet not. Something that licks your

fingertips with volts of static kisses.

I coil and envelop myself in this new life,

pulling it towards me and exploring it fully.

New place, new town, new time, new tongue.

New me.

Sometimes this change affects me

in unexpected ways. Changing my outlook,

Colouring the distant hills with rainbows,

dinosaurs, and King Kong.

Sometimes it leads me to new waters,

new trenches that I can fall down,

shipwrecks that can be witnessed

and avoided.

But sometimes you're just simply alone.

Lost in the open ocean

(a liquid desert)

with no sign of shore.

In these depths,

nothing is clear and everything blends.

One moment dodging a school of fish

the other is in a strange city of a faraway place.

Sometimes striving

often just surviving;

always with the threat of being

swept away from the sea floor.

To be served on a plate

with no lips,

no taste, and no ties

—wiggling to escape.

As the one eating you feels

only the burn of the wasabi as

they chew the gummy-brain-like

limbs of another of their kind.