A ceramic pelican stands by the door,
the sign around its neck:
"Not on the menu."
I pause, amused, again --
glad we never left Hollywood
for a place where umbrellas reign.
"Sushi platter number two," you order,
as if Nanako didn't know.
She nods, polite, respectful,
turns to me, all lips and teeth,
"And for you, movie star!"
She knows who wields the plastic.
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