Cloud Nine From An Asian Child

Hot jasmine tea My grandmother liked to drink Everyday at 10 While tending to ancient herbs and oriental spices Before Day’s of our Lives She never understood it but she liked it anyway And after her afternoon nap She always had an aroma like that unforgettable liquid In the green bottle by her bed While the rice cooks Steaming white fluff That chokes your throat when you swallow too fast Floating along the rice there’s green things I learned not to ask You must clean your bowl She said Otherwise you’ll end up too skinny and get sick When the sun hits your head Eggrolls, plump and short Loved to waddle around in fish sauce before it jumps into mouths Just like the chickens with the head cut off that Bac Phoung Plucked the feathers off accompanying that sticky sweet smell of death Like sweet cake and dumplings Stolen from the wrapper Left on the table that grandpa forgot to put away Cousins come and go Hugs and kisses, fights and shows From 36 of us We hold games and play with the hammock Disciplined with chopsticks We knew better then play Street Fighter all day Though it’s happened once or twice New Years is the best however A dollar from each aunt or uncle Lasts only but a day Until the icecream man comes and we spend Each and every dime On Bullets, Tweety Shaped Popsicles and Lucas Ninja turtles and Daffy Duck with bubblegum eyes