I just spilled, I don't know... maybe a fifth of Ozeki sake. The whole thing's 180mL, and it comes with a stiff rubber cap, for to-go, I'm assuming. Oh, Japan. It's the local ramen house. I fucking love ramen.
I fucking love sake too, which makes this not so surprising; this isn't my first sake of the night. I met Claire, per request, at Hama Sushi and immediately ordered a large hot sake.
She was with her friend, and they were already wasted, so I ended up drinking most of it. Then I drove her home and fucked her while watching the show she produces. She's a studio exec. She's a hot mess is what she is right now, but it's fucking sexy. And I'm madly in love with her. Nobody's ever loved me like she does. I care for her more than anything, mainly because she makes me write, and the smell of her puts my heart at ease.
***
I wanted to feel the violence in the air tonight.
I rode my bike from Claire's down to the ramen house on Main Street
and immediately ordered the Ozeki.
It's fucking windy tonight.
My eyes blink and squint into it while I ride.
Into the debris.
By the streetlights on 4th Street,
I saw the wind.
It was thrashing through the trees.
