Whoever you maybe,

Whether You're Pho,

From Congee Wong,

Or my kitchen,

A pack of instant noodles maybe,

We haven't met yet,

But I realized tonight,

That I already have expectations,

Of what you'll taste like,

Smell like,

Be like.

I already have plans for that first bite,

The chopstick in my fingers,

Noodles sliding in my mouth.

That soup.

That meat.

That whole package.

That Bok Choy,

But wait.

I'm getting too ahead.

I shouldn't have plans because,

What if you disappoint? 

What if you're too watery?

Not enough MSG?

What if my taste-buds hate you,

Then I'll hate you too.