Las Olas

Liquid, dark and bitter,
the edges like brown foam,
but sweet, too, breaks like surf
on my taste buds.

On the bottom, gritty remnants
of sugar coat the cup and
my lips; he leans across
the table to lick them clean.

Brown rice and beans spill
from my plate, but I do not
notice; all I can feel are
the waves.

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