brigadeiro is usually eaten cold but he stirred it up to warm us
and we ate it hot with a spoon in between laughs and sips of cheap red wine
and I told him he was changing my life with the brigadeiro
but really that’s not what I meant.
when it was time for me to go he sent me off with the thick sweet stuff
still warm from the stove pot
heating up the inside of a square tupperware container
(he asked me how we say tupperware where I’m from. it turns out we say it the same.)
It’s cold and congealed in my refrigerator now
and every morning I pull off a piece
it stretches like silly putty
and in it I taste the condensed milk that he fed me with a spoon
then kissed off my lips.
it was sweet and good in his kitchen.
it is sweet and not good in mine.