Freshly Cut Poke

12 3 3

At the Lanai Market,
we find the raw
cube-cut fish,
aku and he'e,
lined up like in
a sandwich deli
or meat counter,

locals serving
other locals
in a community
on the outskirts
of a country
ruled by fear
of Centaurians
and Orange Man.

On the other side
of the counter,
an old television
buzzes with news
of Allen Weisselberg
potentially leaking
the financial reports of
a corrupt White House.

Hooman #A squints
his eyes at the television
while I order the delicate
slices of fish requested
by Lahea Ikaika, our
second-choice savior,
after losing Happy Rock
to the lizardmen living
in our neighborhood.

Perhaps I should peel
Hooman #A away
from the television,
back to the mission
at hand, except
I've got other issues,

like the glint
of lizardscale
on the edge of
the poke server's wrists;

Not knowing
what else to do,
I lean to Hooman #A
and say, "Hey, I forgot
my wallet; you have cash?"

I remember he left
his wallet at our hotel,
so we won't be able to pay,
and in that supposed
moment of embarrassment
we'll be able to sneak out.

"Hmph," grunts the lizard
in poke server human-skin
as Hooman #A searches
his pockets, murmuring,
"I left my wallet at our room."

When we're outside again,
under the Hawaiian sun,

I whisper,
"The poke server!—he's one of them! From the Babylonian Brotherhood. It's like they're everywhere..."


Author's Note

Thank you for reading this far!

If you enjoy this branch of the story, consider reading one of my other projects, An Island Honeymoon. It's a poetry collection that's based on our Maui honeymoon—same as this part of American Catseye—and you can find it by clicking on this chapter's external link.

Please star this chapter if you enjoyed it! And best wishes to you. ♥

First draft: August 18

Second draft: September 18

Word count: 317

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