We were in Cambodia YumYum when Karen asked
if they serve General Tso. Laughingly I said no,
but they do have Chicken Pol Pot, which is to die for.
It starts out sweet but then the heat hits like a bullet
to the head. And though I doubt this is true, Karen swears
I told her to get the Khmer Rouge dumplings too.
My Cheshire grin should have been a clue but when the waiter
walked over Karen gave her order and onto the sidewalk I flew.
It was just a silly genocide joke, but some people spurn humor like others malign salt. Then they pretend to be offended and act as if it's my fault.
Hey, I'm the one who left before I could finish my beer. Seems to me -
I'm the victim here.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
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Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry 