She is just enough foreign
To fling a flash of lost focus
Agony of misinterpretations
In the way she Ms.uses cutlery
To the silent syllables she stresses.
To clasp her is to dare ambiguity
A conceptual blending, a ratio of
Just enough Q to encircle the weirdo
Infuse him with a Dionysian waft
Trancing his mind, trashing his work
Confiscating his self to raptures
From which it returns
Never quite the same
Just enough foreign
To re-deem the man.