for two days
we've spoken
you in icelandic
me in whatever language they use
in morocco
two days of me not comprehending
you
frustrated by my inability
to translate
i curl in
on myself i wonder how deep down
i can go
before i hear your gutteral whispers
and they finally make sense
to these ears.
***
it's like the sun
hiding behind
clouds manufactured by disney
puffy and soft
i know when it is revealed
the slow sink into blue
i'll be blinded
but for now i picture it round
like a giant pillow, rays pointed
little triangles along the radius
one of those drawn
with your left hand
when you're five.
suddenly
i understand--
***
pass me my sunglasses
i can hear every word you say
all the syllables, grinding bright
against my cornea
i blink
hard
trying to shut out the noise
songs being sung in tongues
i don't recognize
am i buddha cool
in my shades,
burned by nouns--
i have to admit
i'm basking
in the verbage,
yours and mine.
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