In Portuguese, we say, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” In poetry, we say: I know we just met and I don’t want to go too fast, but I couldn’t sleep last night because I don’t know your middle name or how you take your coffee. And for some reason, there’s nothing in the world I’d rather know more about, except maybe what your hair looks like when it’s messed up in the morning, and what makes you laugh until you cry or what makes you laugh when you’re crying, one or both or all of those facts. I know we just met and I don’t want to go too fast, but I couldn’t concentrate this morning because I need to know what you like to eat and the dreams you’d never say out loud but secretly wish you could make come true.