More crap, but decent crap
Benihana as a Half
I twist my hair to the sides of my face
gazing into the mirror
watching her repeat my actions
slow twirling, coiling
symmetry
and then I realize
she's not made of glass
Lisa, my "twin"
tonight we look exactly alike
two photocopies lacking the original piece
call us Tweedledum and Tweedledee; how appropriate
we arrive at the restaurant
exotic and new, yet something we've had before
same tastes, new setting
we can't help but chuckle silently when the host appears; he is dressed to the nines in something
that resembles a Star Trek costume
he leads us to the table
the center is metal, and ready to start the show
we sit; across from me a couple does the same
the blonde woman makes me uneasy from the start; she stares and stares, directly at me
yet her eyes are empty and dull, slightly glassed from the alcohol
the chef arrives, a white band encircling the crown of his head
his face filled with melancholy, but he smiles at Michelle
the show begins, whirling and chopping
an onion volcano bubbling, spouting
we exchange glances; it's commercial Japan!
the lights glare off of her platinum hair
she moves to the window; the glass is her cage
wishing for another life, another world
I am happy I am not her
I am happy I am only half
I am happy to be someone else for a night.
I twist my hair to the sides of my face
gazing into the mirror
watching her repeat my actions
slow twirling, coiling
symmetry
and then I realize
she's not made of glass
Lisa, my "twin"
tonight we look exactly alike
two photocopies lacking the original piece
call us Tweedledum and Tweedledee; how appropriate
we arrive at the restaurant
exotic and new, yet something we've had before
same tastes, new setting
we can't help but chuckle silently when the host appears; he is dressed to the nines in something
that resembles a Star Trek costume
he leads us to the table
the center is metal, and ready to start the show
we sit; across from me a couple does the same
the blonde woman makes me uneasy from the start; she stares and stares, directly at me
yet her eyes are empty and dull, slightly glassed from the alcohol
the chef arrives, a white band encircling the crown of his head
his face filled with melancholy, but he smiles at Michelle
the show begins, whirling and chopping
an onion volcano bubbling, spouting
we exchange glances; it's commercial Japan!
the lights glare off of her platinum hair
she moves to the window; the glass is her cage
wishing for another life, another world
I am happy I am not her
I am happy I am only half
I am happy to be someone else for a night.