by Trista di Genova
There’s this little place deep in the Heart of Banciao
where they admittedly have some great shui-jiao
but some lousy, cheese-emporium-like service.
When I ordered some curry dumplings,
they said they were all out – mai wan le
so I tried to score some Korea-style dumplings
and they were out of those
and leek dumplings, too.
They were all out of everything
except nine pork dumplings.
So I said, “Okay, I’ll take those.”
It took a long, long time. I took off my jacket
and scarf, and found I was really parched
and went up front to order some soup.
They were all outta that, too.
I said, “Are you the laoban here?
Because if you are, you’re an idiot.
Isn’t this a shui-jiao shop?
But everything’s mai-wan le.”
The Laoban said they have a lot of
‘xue-shao ren,’ ‘elementary schoolpeople.
“But you know a lot of skoolkids are comin’,’
I contested, ‘so why not buy more?”
He said I was not polite, bu keqi
and blah blah blah as he
held a basket of dumplings over hot water.
A bit vexed, I told him “Okay, just keep ’em, fuck it,’
and on the turning away, he spat out “Fock You!!!’