Things that Happen at Panda Express

Things that Happen at Panda Express

A white woman,
beyond middle aged,
thin, ashen hair.
Her spit flies everywhere.

Gross, I think, standing,
finishing the end of a short line.

“Yellow bitch!” She calls me.

Kinda ironic.

Her eyes, two of many –
weighty eyes stuck to me,
staring at me in anger,
and in shock.

“Go back to your own country!”

I didn’t know people actually said that in real life.
Still, something bubbles
like unstirred curry,
and my hands curl at my side.

“We don’t need your disease.”

Words fail me then,
Like a child turning around
to find their mother gone
in a crowded mall.
I stood.

“Shut up, you crazy lady!”

Another woman,
college-aged?
Graphic tee and jeans,
stern eyebrows,
shouts through the crowd.

“Stop with your baseless racism.”

“Who do you think you are?”

Voices, like small streams
converging and morphing
together, form a valiant river.

It pushes the woman
down and away,
over the waterfall,
where her voice drowns.

I swim to the edge,
protected by the waves of
voices that surround me and
watch,

drifting in the currents…