Hibachan, great grandmother, you found a blue
belly in the laundry sink drain. It was
bloated and the silvery skin was peeling off
from days of soaking. You kept it in a peanut
butter jar filled with vinegar. It was almost
liquefied when you gave it to me. The legs
fell off. The body quivered and undulated as I
swirled it around in the glass. I opened the
lid. It smelled like death.
I mumbled a quick thanks as I ran
behind the tool shed.
I threw the damn thing under a bush.
Stanford T. Goto