The waiters at Cafe Lisboa give me free coffee

With hearts drawn in the foam

Because they think I’m nice to look at

I guess.

 

I kissed one of them last week

And he murmured something in Spanish

And I had to ask him to repeat it

Because I study Spanish but sometimes

It’s hard to understand it mumbled after a kiss.

 

I liked the last boy I kissed a lot better

But he only liked me for the length of the kiss.

We spoke in Spanish, too,

Even though it’s native to neither of us.

 

When we kissed he spoke to me in badly formed English

Until I asked him to speak his Portuguese instead.

I didn’t understand it,

But it was sweeter to hear.

I missed the Portuguese in my ear when I kissed the waiter who spoke to me in Spanish that I asked him to repeat.

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