Sunday Nights

On Sunday night, for years,
When it was time for us to eat,
We piled into the car to get
Some Chinese food, a treat.

My parents did the ordering
And mostly, they’d agree,
By choosing things from Column A
And also Column B.

The Family Dinner had those lists
But first we all had soup,
With crunchy noodles that in bowls
Of duck sauce we would scoop.

The next course would be egg rolls,
So more duck sauce we’d request
And following would be fried rice
And spare ribs to ingest.

My mom liked lobster Cantonese;
We also had chow mein
And never, in my memory,
Did anyone complain.

Some fortune cookies served with fruit
Would end our Sunday meal,
A far cry from home-cooking
But, to us, it seemed ideal.