I am very sorry that I ever doubted you. I am sorry that I made my first sushi experience years ago in Grande Prairie, Alberta rather than a proper sushi establishment and that I snuck to the bathroom to spit you out because I just couldn't get you into my belly and all the sushi chefs laughed at me on account of I had to walk past them to get to the ladies' room while I tried very discreetly not to gag with a sushi filled cheek on one side of my face and my tongue trying desperately to get away from the sushi on the other while my eyes watered and I kind of drooled. I still remember that that garbage receptacle beside the toilet was blue and that you were not supposed to put your needles in it. It wasn't your fault that those chefs made you super gross.
It's all changed as of today thanks to a proper restaurant and my new best friend, wasabi- and I am going to think about you and maybe even write poems about you until the sushi place opens tomorrow.
Salmon in my guts
Nobody cooked you at all
Read about vampires.
Good haiku, eh?
Next adventure: Sake.. o'sake sakety sake.
Love Chelle.
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