Dim Sum & Then Some
At the Eight Immortals—where the Lee kids are known
to sprawl in front of dim sum carts, checking out
the shark fin dumplings & ham ha ngau yuk chow fun—
the owner prefers to seat us in the banquet room upstairs.
Grandma loves her grandchildren, doesn't want us to marry
& move out of state! The boys pat her head, sputtering
Chinglish & adjusting tones until they hit the mark.
On special occasions, when Canadian half-relatives visit,
second uncle's lanky second son, Ellison, tapes styrofoam
cups to his chest, piles waist-length hair on top of his head,
& grooves like a drag queen waitress in heat. If our blind
Grandpa were alive, his one blue eye would try to stare
down our antics. Last year I married & now I'm chewing
the fat at the grown-up table, talking about my 401K.
I miss the steamed bun fights, the 11-kid stadium wave
around our table, & the puppet show—chicken & duck heads
stuck on chopsticks, pecking at each other, their pink napkin
dresses trailing in the soy sauce.