café havana: a while ago.

we respect the guest.

he gave me fourteen cents off my tea,

because he is the owner and he can do that.

i told him not to, i handed out my crumpled dollar

bill but i guess my sloppy appearance gave a case

for a poor university student

and he wouldn’t take it.

fourteen cents for a dollar. if only i

had pulled out my old wallet and taken the

dime, the pennies—

but for the line behind me, i handed the dollar for my tea,

milk tea.

and i glimpsed at life and couldn’t breathe

after an hour

and couldn’t stay

and couldn’t sleep
and couldn’t speak this young language.