My Starbucks date and the subtle difference between /ɹ/ and /r/

We wait in line for our coffees

and that’s when you ask me why I don’t pronounce my name properly.

I tell you it’s because that is not who I am. Here.

My name’s /ɹ/. Not /r/. Nice to meet you.

You ask me what’s the difference,

and I laugh at you. Even that doesn’t sound quite right.

/ɹ/ likes tea. Gravy on chips. The rain.

The word “discombobulated”.

She doesn’t like queues. Baked beans. The rain.

The words “butter”, “rarely” and “literally”.

/r/ likes caffè. Five-euro packs of cigarettes. Talking with her hands.

The words “burro”, “raramente” and “letteralmente”.

She doesn’t like summer. Fascists. Expensive books.

The words “mamma” and “mia”.

/ɹ/ doesn’t say I love you. Ever.

Because it’s just. Not specific enough, neh?

I love you, mum sounds awfully much like I love you, babe.

So instead, /r/ says Mamma, ti voglio bene and Amore, ti –

Nevermind. /r/ doesn’t say ti amo much either.

But she has a great sense of humor. Like.

She got jokes. Good ones. Tipo.

What is a melodrama?

A play about fruit!

And actually. Forse. /ɹ/ is not that funny.

/ɹ/ is also not that loud. /ɹ/ is shy. /ɹ/ is scared. /ɹ/ is just an echo

and I chiarifico, ridico, giustifico, traduco –

but /ɹ/ can’t rhyme.

Or get to dates on time.

(/r/ doesn’t go on dates, so it’s fine).

You ask me if you can call me /r/

and I tell you that that’s not my name.

You say that’s not my name, but it’s still who I am

and when the barista hands me my toffee nut oatmeal latte

– because, giuro su Dio, I could never stand cappuccino’s –

she wrote my name right.

And for her, I can speak no words other than grazie.