last night i ate sea urchin. it tasted of the ocean. the body soaked with the tears of whales crying for the lost of their children. the warm fur of a white seal pup before it meets its end to the hand of cruelty. the plastic embrace of a shopping bag around the throat of an artic tern. the urchin cried for its fish brothers. never more would they dart between its feelers searching for food. it whispered to me of lost porpoises trapped in nets raping the sea. it told of sharks too fearful to leave the sunken ships of death’s folly. i heard the boast of old sailors swapping trinklets for lives. i stopped a moment and put the chopsticks down. then ordered another item from the menu. one without the bitter taste.