Lunch in Chinatown

Standard

Tuk-Tuks and scooters rumble by
on the busy street outside the small
Chinese restaurant. Huge woks simmer,
steam lazily swirling to the fans above,
unidentifiable meat swimming in oil.
A deep belly laugh echoes back from
the front of the restaurant and quick
Thai is rattled off from an old toothless
man as he walks past. The sun beats
down on an already blistering day.
Sweat drips in sluggish lines down my
back and with each small gift of a breeze,
I stop.
And wish for more.

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