By Dorothy Chan
I’d love a man vending machine
in the hallway of my celebrity home,
and I know this sounds like an ‘80s
high-concept film starring Andrew McCarthy
in his puppy-dog-eyes-golden-boy-prime
shrunk inside a vending machine
in a department store in Hong Kong,
because this is my version, and have you seen
vending machines in Kowloon malls
with their Korean beauty products
and knickknacks you just can’t live without?
And the lead actress puts in a coin,
and Hottie McCarthy comes to life
as they have high tea in the mall, and honey,
if we’re going to play make-believe,
I’m going all out, with this man
vending machine in the middle of my celebrity home
that’s complete with high ceilings
and koi pond with Zen garden
where I drink jasmine tea in the mornings—
Good Little Asian Girl, champagne
in the mini fridge of my walk-in closet,
like Cleopatra in the cartoons
who had absolutely nothing to wear, ever,
and I’ll need a room that’s all white,
save for the vase of red roses on the center table,
and I hate flowers—stop bringing them to me
when you’re asking for forgiveness, but everything
in life needs a woman’s touch—how I love
playing dream girl to the beefcake-of-the-moment-
Ripped-out-of-the-stud-calendar-let-me-
melt-butter-on-your-abs, sir, you stud
that I got out of the vending machine after swiping 10
my black AMEX, and sure, I was craving
sea salt and vinegar chips and red licorice and a cold cold
cold cherry cola to rub on my breast
because it’s getting very very hot in here,
and you’re looking like a snack this afternoon,
you stud, and I love telling you what to do
as I pose on this faux-fur-polar-bear-carpet
shag, snuggle by the fire, eating rare steaks
and red wine, bloody as hell
in front of the fireplace—classy,
and will you just turn around for me, bend over,
and I like this view, I like this view,
I like this view, and let’s roll around
the rest of this lazy afternoon, a little bit tipsy,
but before your shirtless scene,
why don’t you go to the vending machine,
get me a bag of chips and some strawberry licorice
but always remember—there’s more of you
where you came from, but let’s have fun for now,
and suck on each other’s tongues,
sharing this piece of licorice
Lady and the Tramp style, and there’s more of you
where you came from, in my celebrity home,
complete with heart-shaped hot tub,
and you hunk of man, you, we’ll have a little
afternoon fun before I’m done and I move on
to the next one, insert my coins
for the next flavor, wow this candy tastes good
in your mouth.
Author the Author:
Dorothy Chan is the author of Revenge of the Asian Woman (Diode Editions, Forthcoming March 2019), Attack of the Fifty-Foot Centerfold (Spork Press, 2018), and the chapbook Chinatown Sonnets (New Delta Review, 2017). She is the Editor of The Southeast Review. Visit her website at dorothypoetry.com.
