I'm just taking the spoon out of my cup

When the owner of the Asian diner

Comes to me with one hand out

As if to stop me,

But from what?

From taking a sip of my tea?

From eating the food off the buffet?

He's stuttering agitatedly,

And I'm not sure what language 

He attempts to speak.

But I am frozen

Waiting to understand,

My spoon suspended 

In my hand, between the cup

And setting it down

On the saucer.

Finally an apron clad cook appears

By his side

And translates for me shaking his head,

Dismissing the offer for me,

Before I even know it.

"He saw you in the judo match downtown," he says,

"And he wants you to throw him!"

Later, when the waiter brought my check,

He advised me that the cook had mistranslated the Mandarin.

What the owner was wanting from me was a "wild fling."

I paid and left discreetly,

For either way,

It was not something I wanted to do.

-jenn