i once met a bulgarian in the heartland of singapore
we talked, walked around a substandard mall
his accent thick like the calluses on his fingers

he told me how he was a piano teacher
was a photographer, and he was so happy
he got to do what he loved

he told me that, one day, he would import
bulgarian yoghurt. because yoghurt, bulgarian or not
was an invention of his country

i bet you didn’t know that. i bet you didn’t know
he was so happy about all the small thing in life
about the fact i gave him my hour for a talk

about the fact i found his accent cute
and the fact we both had a disdain for people
who couldn’t hold a simple conversation