It is a difficult decision,
choosing between the complex
flavors of the house noodles
and the fire of the spicy chicken.
She was the first — a rare beauty
in an east Texas town —
with burring desire and a rebellious
nature. She searched for something
the boys she was surrounded
by could not provide and tired
of me quicker than the fill
of the lo mien subsides, or the sting
of sauce on the tongue dies.
Lately, I order the noodles more,
preferring to savor the layers
of life imbued in each bite.
Occasionally though, there is an
appeal to the heat, no matter
how quickly it fades.
The Saturday post at dVerse asked for
an account of an ‘Asian” experience