Three thousand years

Eight cuisines

Papier-mâché project

Supposedly unclean

The Dragon and the Tiger Fight

The Buddha Jumps Over the Wall

Xi Shi's Tongue is fried

But Stinky Tofu surpasses them all

Dark golden rolls glisten with honey

The egg tart’s flaky crunch

Too soon it’s left me wondering

What’s on the menu for lunch

I find myself at the seafood markets

Where grandmothers holler for the freshest

And the smiling butcher quips:

All of my fish are the freshest

Chinatown is a dragon of its own

My adventures and perils mirror the creature as it rears its head

But when I welcome my fellow Starbucks addicts to my favorite teahouse

They are baffled to see me here when the world makes me feel suppressed

All they want to do is scrutinize

Keep China at a distance

Fetishize its monolid eyes

Wear it as amber jewelry

Ornamentalized

Devouring orange chicken more often than apple pie

Gagging over “barbaric” bird’s nest and phoenix claws

Rejecting the dishes that they didn’t appropriate

Ordaining that coercively fattened foie gras is bourgeois

Chop suey translates to “leftovers”

General Tso? I’m sorry—who?

These simulacra haunt us

What can we all do?

Question our assumptions

Keep a malleable mind

Stay open to dialogue

Put our opinions on the line

Our differences don’t have to create the dichotomies that divide us

Those who agree with each other don’t have to form cliques

We can revamp our culture in favor of a harmonious overture

Starting with something as simple as phoenix feet