HEY, GOOD CUPCAKE GUY

Before I was born, my parents visited the fortune teller,
………..an old family friend, because we are Chinese, and this,
this is what we do, and years later, my mom warns me

………..about controlling my temper—if I lose it too much, too often,
I’ll end up a housewife scrubbing the floors,
………..giving new definition to daytime soap, and oh,

the soap opera of my life, how it’s in the cards
………..that my future husband is a handsome man, and I keep thinking,
Why the hell is it taking him so long to get here?

………..Doesn’t he know I’ve been waiting for an eternity?
And I know I sound like I’m getting a package in the mail,
………..like a new coffee machine or a fuzzy shirt, and not a hunky man,

and it’s not that I even want to get married—no, no, no,
………..I’ve never even dreamt of my wedding day, and I can guarantee you
that I’ll hate the dresses and the floral arrangements

………..and whatever jazz band is playing that night, but I’ll love the cakes,
and why don’t you and I, you and I, dear-future-hunk-whom-I-share-
………..a-checking-account-with, and dear-future-stud-whom-

I-coordinate-blue-and-pink-outfits-with, why don’t we
………..just nix the whole wedding idea, disappoint our parents,
and just go somewhere and eat wedding cakes?

………..And I don’t even care if these cakes come
from a Betty Crocker box—do you want Super Moist Yellow
………..or Zesty Lemon or Devil’s Food? I’ll go for Party Rainbow Chip,

because I might pretend to be classy with my love
………..of Caravaggio and Brunelleschi and caviar and lox,
but I can be trashy, even filthy,

………..and if you’re my soulmate, well, I don’t even know
if I believe in soulmates, but oh,
………..aren’t lobsters and penguins so spectacular in how they mate

for life, and I think about instinct and how life
………..and love might actually be more like the movies
than we think—the freeze-frame-star-quality-moment

………..when you just know in your nervousness and before
you know it, you’re meeting at a bar at midnight,
………..eating all the peanuts in the bowl

as your future’s talking, and I keep thinking, well,
………..if my future husband is supposed to be handsome
according to the family fortune teller,

………..then every time I see an unattractive man, it’s the biggest sigh
of relief in the world that it’s not him, and how fun it is
………..to be shallow at first sight, but I do hope

my future’s really a good guy, like the cupcake flavor,
………..vanilla with lots of sprinkles, and maybe this fate
is one of the million reasons why

………..I’m repelled by so many men, but let’s hear it
for the Good Cupcake Guy, let’s hear it for the movies,
………..let’s hear it…because I’m telling you, I can hardly wait.

.

.

.

TRIPLE SONNET FOR BEING YOUR OWN SUGAR DADDY

Hey girls, be your own sugar daddy,
………..because I see Richie Rich on a slot
machine in Vegas with a girl his age
………..fawning over his blond rich boy richness,
and that’s too much excess for a little kid
………..with a McDonald’s in his own mansion—
and Quarter Pounders and Filet-O-Fish
………..are great, but how many can you really
eat in a day—excess, like a Renoir
………..painting on a gold plane, and it scares me
how much I used to hate paying
………..for my own meals, like fish and chips
greasy all over my fingers after
………..a night of clubbing—Clarke Quay Singapore,

………..and why did I even think I needed men
for anything—dating and dining
………..for the sake of chirashi and unagi
in Asia, where the idea that men
………..are attracted to beauty and women
are attracted to power is even worse,
………..and I like my men a little beautiful,
and I like my women a little powerful
………..and hard to read like femme fatales
of film noir—and What is sex in money?
………..is the million dollar question an actress
asks on a talk show, confused as to how
………..anyone could roll around in the nude
with someone else on a bed of bills,

and they snort with joy like pigs in mud,
………..and What does make us happy in the end?
And girls, be your own sugar daddy,
………..be your own Richie Rich designing
your dream house, when you ask the architect,
………..“Hey, this is a little weird,
but can you install a button,
………..and pow! I have a sex room summoned,”
with whips and chains and teddy bear paddles
………..and girl on girl, not from the male gaze,
and what about a topiary with my name
………..right outside, my lover and I look out
from the bed inside a large birdcage—
………..burgers and fries on their way,
………..………..and make it a double.

Dorothy Chan is the author of Revenge of the Asian Woman (Diode Editions, March 2019), Attack of the Fifty-Foot Centerfold (Spork Press, 2018), and the chapbook Chinatown Sonnets(New Delta Review, 2017). She was a 2014 finalist for the Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fellowship, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Academy of American Poets, The Cincinnati Review, The Common, Diode Poetry Journal, Quarterly West, and elsewhere. Chan is the Editor of The Southeast Review. Visit her website at dorothypoetry.com