Yokohama LiLu Li and Lu were sealpoint sisters sleek, long curved, matching each other as bookends or doorstops or garden statues depending where they chose to pose, modeled after Lladro. Here, LiLuLiLuLiLu we chanted Lui-LuI-Liu-Liu we warbled in counterpoint, they never came, they slipped in and out of their house lithe and liquid.   If we had thoughtlessly slid the shoji screen shut a quick claw snick opened it nicely. We cut artistic designs in the new screen, this was acceptable. We brought them home as kittens but they didn’t play, they sat silently in their basket, blue eyes unwavering, baby birds staring at us, featherless. We couldn’t tell Li from Lu but Mariko, our maid, knew. She bought Lu a red cushion Li a black. She said they   knew the right cushions. When we left Japan we gave Li and Lu to Marikosan. She cried, we cried, but Li and Lu who must have been sitting on the right cushions certainly did not cry.