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birthday noodles MAG
Toss the egg in, stir stir stir, crackle
It will pop, yes, it will sizzle.
If we have a birthday tradition, it's
these noodles, plain and simple, just
eggs and wheat and a bit of soy sauce
but cheers to you, we have no wine
but fifteen noodles, all in line, all long.
There's more than fifteen, actually.
Don't make me count them because
noodles always break with bites, and that
will be even worse than counting your
hair single-strandedly, one at a time.
I can count the eggs, though. Toss the egg in
one at a time, one drops, and then there's
two. And if I'm feeling important today
I can count your fingers and count your toes.
If I'm feeling smart, I can count the days
you've been alive, and I can (five-four-
seven-nine) even round to the nearest second.
If I'm feeling dumb, I'll count the socks in
our closet without a fellow pair, and if today,
I just so happen to feel happy, I can count the
days we've been apart and remember how when
you first came from the hospital, you were so
small I thought you were a doll.