Wednesday, February 15, 2017

voluble

I
who often
cannot stop my tongue
from running as if Pheidippides news laden,
voluminously voluble, gargantuanly garrulous;
I find myself made mute in the moment of pursuit.
All my tales, jokes and recitations
suddenly find complications
and anecdotes which in other company
draw some others unto me,
fall flat upon the floor.
I
nod and smile
so beguiled but certain more
the simulacrum of stupidity I seem,
as the inner me lets out a scream of frustration
while the outer me succumbs as to sedation
and I flash a message in morse code blinks,
my awkwardness a weight, my heart sinks.
It's not I have no words to say
but none I know could e'er convey
both the hope and dread that clamor to be said.
I
fear that you 
would look on me quite piteously 
and the magic of the silence
would hold no more 
for while you nod and smile 
as in sympathy
I can imagine that you are in 
the same predicament as me.



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