I know he’s speaking English,
Understanding some words,
But the rest, like molasses,
Slide into each other
In mellifluous, seductive word-song,
Almost grasped,
But too fast
To be translated.
Then more words,
Nearly understood,
Pile up in a linguistic traffic jam.
I abandon all hope of unpacking the flow
Into distinct words.
But I smile and nod,
As if I know what he’s talking about.