While the rest of his ilk are contentedly flocking together he looks up new words in a lexicon left on a table. He blinks at ‘quadratics’. He bristles at ‘birds of a feather’. He’s amused by ‘Icarus’ and caws ‘European’ a fable. He fancies he’s painting, or building a boat, or a castle. He pretends(…)
The very thought of studying conjugations is soporific as warm tea infused from herbs. I dream a somnolent, jam-packed congregation — amo amas amat distinctions blurred — reclined, and declining nouns till diphthongs fizzle. Forms imperfecto doble enkelvoud futuro: pigeonholed verbs holed up beneath my bureau, my no-language-safe safe cracked, and Polly wanting some free-basin(…)
