“Amor”, as in extra.

Six miles from

the Mexican border,

it often means less—

 

a luxury for those

who can still afford it,

or don’t mind paying

too much for too little.

 

I am lucky to share my bed

with someone who is

in no hurry to leave,

 

yet love in any language

gets harder to pronounce

with each passing year.

 

My tongue rolls

sideways, whenever

I try to speak the word.

 

It sticks to my teeth

and the roof of my mouth

like hard taffy.

 

With enough repetition,

language will

become unnecessary,

 

but syllables are all I have.

You must listen with care,

while I try to remember.