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Red Bean Buns MAG
they sell red bean buns
on fifty-fourth street
in the steamy little shack next to
the drugstore with the cracked
cement.
four buns arrive in a little red
box with swirling golden dragons
and black sesame seeds salute
from an expansive ocean of white.
children rush to buy the buns
one twenty-five per order on
Saturdays after Chinese school
they sit on the curb with the buns steaming
hot.
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My mother is Chinese, and food is a huge part of Chinese culture. I wrote this poem because it reminds me of the nostalgia of childhood and details of the Chinatown my family used to visit when I was younger.