Albino tapeworms curl around themselves
So many worms in such a big bowl
I am hungry and twist them around my fork
The amputee owner/waiter assures me they taste best with chili sauce
We bob to each other, in agreement, very good, very tasty, yes!
I add more sauce with a little spoon and peek under my hot noodles for more surprises,
Poke, poke, this time with chopsticks; I laugh to my partner loudly as we share our selections
An older couple looks our way, and I stare at their plates past their eyes to see what they ordered
Do they come here often, live nearby, their private, Saturday night haunt all these years?
The young Vietnamese American children at the first table don’t look up once from their screens
Boring, boring, boring, but their parents and friends seem relaxed and happy at their bowls.
On the way out, I notice the fake fire burning is really a heater for the first window seats
Warming those framed by the front windows this winter while we sit further inside.
-by Ava Hypatia, open mic night at D’Verse Poets.