An empty omen
A bill beneath
No bad news: tip well
-Tcat
What is this I see?
Paper stuck to a sinker?
Wet hands show future.
Does eve-ry-one else
Read each syl-a-ble like me?
Or am I stu-pid?
Some of us read it
And some of us do not; but
Its not an “or” question
Perhaps it should be,
Since the last line of your poem
Holds too many beats.
Too many beats, yes
But like peppers in kung pao
Too many is best
Alas no Szechuan
We had meatballs, broccoli.
Now I want Chinese!
Egg rolls, fried rice, mm…
Chow mein and deep fried prawns, too–
Tomorrow’s menu.
A fortune is read
But my cookie tastes funny
There were two? I gag.
Schezwan! Schezwan! Ooooh!
My tongue is burning from you.
Can’t find the Rolaids.
Eat some Schezwuan now.
In haste, I eat the fortune.
Good News in my poo
Takeout Asian? Bah.
While eating at home is nice,
Buffets are bigger.
Red Hot Asian Chicks
Never Serve my dinner.
Always Old Mr. Kim.
Yanks waddle in my place
Always ordering loudly.
I spit in their rice.
Chinese takeout bad
Lady keep saying “And then?”
Friend starved yesterday.
Yanks says too spicy
Want a free replacement soup.
Ha! I pee in soup.
I pee in Yank soup
“good to the last drop!” says Yank
I call it Wang Soup.
I came to the states.
To escape the factory.
New Name: Shirwey Wang.
Long tough day at work
Go see Mr. Lee for cure
Six pack of tall boys
Lunchtime yesterday
Chinese takeout cookie would
Not tell my fortune
Prisoner released
Little paper strip not there
No lotto numbers
Good sir Montoya
Vengeance for father’s death
Clouds sense of humor
Haiku not Chinese
On this fact we all agree
Good fun even so
Nyquil engages
Eyeballs start to swim
Sick people should be allowed to use as many syllables as they want in the last line of a hai hai haichoo.
White container in fridge,
Congealed mass contained therein,
Future in landfill.