Fluent you swallow tongues like water subjunctive mood sliding down your throat, quenching your dying thirst to order the world in cases and tense past and present and maybe and never I stumble around my second language spewing verbs no more conjugated than a toddler's, barely approaching grace in my first. you embrace your fifth, your sixth like a dancer falling into step with natives and awestruck, I can only watch as you cast your glance over the sea both my hands grasping and gasping for air as you sail, fluent, into opportunity that doesn't translate for the likes of me
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