unabashed mussels.
"Ha!" he laughed,
"They look
so like puta!"
Half-shell clams
reminded him of home:
"We eat them there, fresh,
still living. You squeeze
and the acid of lemon
makes them squirm like
girls."
Nothing he said during
the octopus salad.
It must have been rubbery,
and I was glad for
the smell of vinegar finally.
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