noodles drip peanut sauce
between two wooden chopsticks
i am pinching my fingers
outside, men drive motorcycles
trailed by stinking gray smoke
through bustling fruit markets
beneath tropical foliage
golden sun shining
in here the lights are dingy 
plates clatter from the kitchen
a-ma dragged us to this place
she is our interpreter
taiwanese to english 
quick as a light switch
i am skeptical as we enter
the run-down storefront
until I take a bite
dan bing (egg crepes)
an unknown longing
is finally answered
the other half of home