do you want to eat, i ask
her as
we stand at
the green turbulent
glass enclosure
of water.
the monstrous brown
crustaceans
are biding time,
looking up at us with
sad beady eyes, their tentacles
waving in muck.
they want us to choose.
can i get something dead
already, she
says.
or maybe just an ice berg
wedge
with dressing on
the side.
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