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Belligerent Poetry
at lunch in Rome
listening to women
talk of differences between languages,
italian and english,
in the one i understand.
though with heavy accents both
perhaps second or third
language each - apiece.
i wonder at how little i know,
my bilingual waitress
at my elbow
to remind me of my vast lack,
of all the things i've yet to acquire.
are a gift that takes
time and my mind
like a ball
filled with water
in an ocean of sand
with miles and miles
between it and hard land.