articulation

sometimes i wake up and i find that i have
completely forgotten how to speak english.

most people don't notice. i've found that it's
helpful to make sociable noises like
"mm-hmm" and "uh-huh"
in any conversational situation i may encounter,
though — finding myself inclined
to comment further
— i must remember to restrain myself,
as the only sounds that would emerge
from my throat would be meaningless words
resembling the speech
of a poorly-trained furby.
those sorts of statements generally
don't go over well
in most intellectual circles.

barring any unforeseen engagements, i am
usually able to escape the day
without having to utter a single
intelligible sentence.

i find the muteness quite relaxing, actually.

but today i'm walking down 6th avenue
and a man in a business suit stops me
and asks me for the time.
in the haze of a morning after too little sleep
i temporarily forget my current dilemma,
and tell him "9:15"
in a string of nonsense syllables.
my face flushes like a sunrise as i realize my mistake.
yet to my surprise he just stands there,
beaming a mouthful of teeth
as if he’d just found his long-lost cousin.

in the very same gibberish that has
stricken my language, he replies in gratitude,
and entreats me to tell him
just how i became so articulate.
predictably, i understand every word.

i am relieved of my silence. the words
spill from my mouth as misshapen stones,
falling at my feet. passersby stare as the
deformed rocks accumulate in small piles which
gradually obscure my shoes, then my ankles.
but though quick at first, and great in number,
they soon slow and grow
ponderous and heavy and dull
despite my efforts, lying uselessly across the sidewalk.
and so i merely favor him with
token comments about the weather
as he smiles and nods and insists i go on, while i
fidget and knock a few pebbles aside
and realize in dismay that i am
rapidly running out
of things to say.