XIX. The Thai Palace

I meet my family at the Thai Palace:
Coke-floats and lemon-ice on the table.
This outdoor restaurant is a football field
of millions of benches and millions of people,
cramming into tight spaces, filling the paces
of communal-Asian-style-mealtime.

It’s voted “Most Authentic”—so loud that
I can’t even hear my grandfather speak.
He hands me a crab claw cut-open,
showing love. We eat our pineapple rice and
Tom Yum so hot you know it’s real
because it burns a Thai soccer boy’s tongue.

Grandfather points to the spring rolls, tells me
to eat more. I know I’m his American potato.