Blindsided at work,
I find my way to Sichuan Marvel,
summon lion’s head meatballs,
discover that a talking goldfish
found his way into the indoor concert 
of my live-in-the-moment
right brain thought
and has been recording me while I sleep.
I will freeze him cross-eyed,
flash his bones out in my hand,
little chicken strip,
a toothpick break between my teeth.