Say, “I want to drink a beer,”
says the man in the speaker.
It is seven thirty in the morning,
and I have been practicing,
for twenty minutes, how to say
Jo quiero beber una cerveza,
only sometimes the man tells me
to ask for a cold beer, una cerveza fria.
And I do. I ask for un sandwich frio,
too, and repeatedly query, Quanto questa,
how much will it cost, or else I insist,
Hablo un poco de Español, or
No tengo mucho dinero,
I don’t have much money,
but mostly, the man
with the low, clear voice prompts me
to ask for beer. Cold beer. And though
the sun has just barely risen
over the mountain, and though
I only rarely drink beer,
and though I am sipping on a latte,
driving my children to school,
I find myself craving a cold,
cold beer, preferably with a lime,
preferably served on a beach
with a breeze, the sun a giant
glittering peso, the bottle slick
with its own cold sweat,
and some man I don’t see insists
in a low, clear voice, voy a pagar,
jo voy a pagar, I’m going to pay,
and in my perfect Pimsleur accent,
I say to him, gracias, señor, muchas gracias,
and sip my cold beer, waiting
for the next lesson.
