An image
a word.
Poetry, art, story, novel – book.
We over-define everything
love, marriage, single, broken
We don’t watch over them-
the languages
the images.
They are getting out of hand
Latte, caffe, coffee, cafe, milk and cream

We think we know the terms,
the words
the images
A handful of useful ones get strung together
cobbled, muddled, stitched, and reworked
We call it intelligence, class, and wit
the more you muddle it up
Spanish, French, Dutch, Celtic, Old and Middle English, German.

A real world traveler talks in all the accents
So refined.
So posh.

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