Mistranslation

There I sat in the quiet
near distant intimate murmurs
that danced around like New Orleans
Jazz lost in Hong Kong
with spicy crab cakes promising
to remind of something familiar//
oddly it’s more south of the boarder
to the lone star state
the fool of me to assume these cakes
would be anything more than a falsity…
silence interrupted
when the waiter approached
his English broke as America’s sequestered wallet
and instead of him waiting his words he uttered
“…doesn’t taste like toilet right, it’s full of flavor, yes?!”
to which I replied with a pleasant smile,
“get me someone who can fix your tongue, yes!”
//
Thinking to myself, that just happened…