The wasabi is not so strong today.
Or perhaps my taste has changed—
the exotic, heavy musk
you thrust into my mouth last night,
pressing down my tongue, may have
spoiled my love of more subtle flavors.
With chopsticks, I pick up a bit
of gari, chew it slowly, as one should.
Then more nigiri, dipped in soy.
Still the wasabi bite is pale
and I eat quickly, rudely—eager
to leave here for that other meal at home.
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