A Boyish Rogue [R]

When switching from one language to another I
become a different person, in my mother tongue
a boyish rogue like my irrepressible dad - as for
English I’m restrained like my mama, in French
an ebullient, outgoing extrovert feeling helpful &
righteous, in German a boisterous, noisy singer of

Quatschlieder, while Latin hymns makes me into
a devout seeker of the symbolism of the Divine –
actually I’m multi-dimensional in Afrikaans since
the lullabies mama sang, the stories dad told and
my childhood dreams of becoming all-knowing &
wise, were formed in the tongue of my birth…

Confronted with an exquisite friend who’d increased
in dainty sophistication with the years & who sounds
even more adorable over the telephone; I just backed
out, not able to recapture my previous role of learned
researcher in various languages & philosophy -as I’m
now a lilac humanoid stomping around -and laughing

With my son when he calls right-wing colleagues kinky,
I can’t pursue dignity, sitting in the kitchen with a beach
umbrella to keep the sun away from the sliding doors; -
like a Golem with a sacred Chem in her head - or rather
resembling a purple mermaid with a strange tendency to
change into Quasimodo when confronted with anything

Fragile & delicate beyond my reach though it’s the epitome
of my desire: my exquisite regal friend can depend on me as
a loyal subject without my competing her coterie of dignified
underlings & since the little alien in my head now feels safe
from any pressure to pay my respects in person, I celebrate

My decision with coffee - and washing dishes in the crystal
bubbles rising from pristine white, soapy foam…