and white
shirt, his red suspenders,
he laughed
at me
when i asked for coffee
to go.
he stroked his thin
mustache
and shook his head
sadly.
he was Italian,
the crowd around him
standing
with porcelain cups
drinking espresso
were Italian too.
citizens of Venice.
they laughed with him.
everyone was laughing.
these Americans, how
crass, how rude
in them wanting coffee
to go.
what fools.
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