Fángzi miàn

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


Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

6 responses to “Fángzi miàn

  1. smiles…she sounds like quite a volcano…and yeah…there def. is an appeal to the heat…to the deeper layers as well though…

  2. what a grande similaritiy between the girl and the fiery food. noodles are probably good, and there is always a subtleness there that that the fire of the chili hides. loved this.

  3. nice…like the connection…i like mine hot as well…smiles..the quickly fading though, oy, i can hope not you know….smiles..

  4. I love the obliqueness and understatement in this piece.

  5. Subtle, divine. Thanks for sharing.

  6. Oh, I love the “layers of life imbued in each bite…”

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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