The hot oil of the fried wontons
mimics the sweaty palms
of my wanton hands
which grasp tightly the cup
of green tea gratis.
Anxiety how I loathe
your name; causing
spills of liquid and invading
an otherwise perfect day.
But laughter melts the unease,
as we argue about
nicknames and how to spell
explosion
and I fall face over feet
for a boy who’s taken by the idea of me.