They were all judges but unlike them in their dark suits,
He wore a silk robe, hand-dyed, bluish grey,
I would say a tad too big for him,
And definitely too big for me.
Come sit on the edge of my bed and watch
Shota try and beat platters of Nigiri and Sushi Rolls
with rice, tuna, guts and ingenuity.
The man in the Kimono praises him for making so many
Different pieces but his best is not good enough. Still I must say
Things work out pretty well for him:
There’s no hostile takeover of his father’s sushi bar,
He gets paid to work and train in Tokyo,
Lodgings, not to mention an obscene
Food wastage allowance, which he uses remorselessly.
“Give people what they want!”
I guess is what the Sushi master said,
With hands clasped tightly together,
Touching his chest, his heart.

“Don’t take it the wrong way but I disagree”
Would be my response if he said that to me.
Take the act of bowing to customers:
On the receiving end, I feel out of place,
Like I’m expected to be someone else,
Someone who would buy something, anything,
And not just look around and leave,
Perhaps never to return again.
And imagine being stuck in the office or a pub after work.
I could shake hands and say goodbye to everyone
Like a normal person
Or just sneak out into the night,
Like a ninja,
On my way back from the toilet.

When I worked in Oxford Circus
I would ask Naomi, “do you want a drink from Starbucks?” And I would point out
“As a Gold Level Member, I could get us extra shots and syrup for free.”
For weeks we had a good thing going until
One day, as I was drinking a free
Venti Caramel Macchiato, it felt like my teeth
were rotting from within.
I panicked and knew right there
and then I can’t have syrup any more.
A few days later, Naomi offered to buy me lunch:
“It’s ok. Let me pay this time.”

These days my go-to Starbucks drink
is a Grande Blonde Americano.
Sometimes I ask for an extra shot,
but most of the time, what I really want
is a top-up – some more
boiling water…

Sigh Wan
19/07/2024