Practicing Spanish at a Seaside Bar in Cancun

Starting the conversation with the little bit
I have memorized perfectly, I say
Hola. ¿Qué tal?
The guys smile at each other, then me, saying,
Hola. ¡Qué bien! ¿Qué quieres beber?
Languid air and swaying palms speak piña colada.
Eres tú Americana?
Sí. Yo soy una estudiante. Y tú?
Easy small talk. As I hear some unfamiliar words,
I ask, ¿Qué? then nod, saying, .
The guys nudge each other, chuckling.
I pick out the Spanish word for sex.
I had told myself if a local charmer threw me
a macho pitch, I'd swing my feminist bat,
hitting his errant ball into the stands.
Instead I fidget with the sand between my toes.
One guy motions to his boat, Vas a venir conmigo?
I feel seasick so I race for dry land.
No comprendo. Hablo solo un poco español.
They flood me with Spanish, shouting over and over,
Turista americana estúpida. Entiendes.
I excuse myself to the restroom and escape out the back.
Since I couldn't score a feminist home run,
at least I'll earn a walk.

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