By MHM
Date: 6 March 1998

"This is where they bring the cheese for the crazy people"

I didn't take pictures that weekend
but there are pictures in my mind, still.
I picture you
sitting at the table in the El Salvadorian restaurant
What was it called?
I can't remember that
Only that it was filled with Spanish people
and everyone seemed more beautiful
more interesting 
than me.

I knew they all spoke English, but you spoke Spanish there anyway
And when you left the table for a moment, I was so afraid.
The waitress walked toward me, and I looked away 
so she wouldn't try to talk to me.
She sat our order on the table and said something to me in Spanish
which I thought about but could only translate into
"This is where they bring the cheese for the crazy people."
Reminding me that five years of French classes don't pay off
when you fall in love with a Spanish man.
No matter, because we didn't use words like love that weekend, anyway.

I wonder now what I could have done or might do
to capture your heart.
But it seems like a foreign language to me still.
I am still afraid to look up from the table
still afraid of what is different from me
still not able to find a common ground or a tunnel into your heart.
I wonder about all the things
you did not see in me.