Choo-choooooooo!
Chooooo-chooooo!
The chef pushes
an onion ring pile
around a hot metal plate.
She takes a medicine cup
of colorless liquid,
and pours the contents
into the center
of the onion stack.
Who's birthday?
She prompts.
"His!" We point.
We raise our voices
in unison above
the metal din
of knives and spatulas
clanging on grill top tables.
With a flourish
she alights the tower:
the grande finale —
a tableside fire bomb.
Bright flames reflect
in his chocolate-hazel eyes.
The fire is almost as bright
as his mile-wide grin.
He's closer to fifty
than to five years old.
And still, the magic
of his annual birthday
teppanyaki adventure
never fails to thrill him.
Happy Birthday, Babe.
