Mexical

Any man can sell you
that he speaks three languages
if you don't know the other two.
But what if the third is spoken
in colors and semi-colons?
When diplomacy works
at its arbitrary best
and east is still in the west's sight
I'll be at the border
between romance and war.
The fine line is as big as a country;
like my heart, like my grudges.
Like the blurriness of my misjudgements.
They used to be spot-on.
Would you know any differently
if you couldn't tell the difference?