Poem 98

You wouldn’t need me, if you felt comfortable saying it yourself
The megaphone, the mouth of chattering chattering chattering teeth
You could say it in nuances, in peaks and valleys, in the accent necessary to
Portray fortune and lux; in charming palatable verbs,
You could sand down the syntax and surrender to symbolism and similes
Break through barriers and breathe fresh breezes into these baroque soliloquies.
I digress.
You could pen it all, intro to epilogue in crisp-cornered cacophony.
In round sounds bound to spur the foremost of fortitudes.
It’s yours after all, not mime… and who am I, but an above average scrivener,
A mere secretary of statements, thumbing through my thesaurus pondering the perfect
Adverb for this very instance.
I’ve never visited, never held it in my palms…
I am a tourist writing your guidebook on the sidewalk with a scrap of chalk.
It’s not real.
I lack passion. drive. gumption. vehemence. sagacity.
You require adjectives. I am thumbing through my thesaurus
Weighing the options on an invisible scale at the tip of my tongue.
Reading aloud, this way then that, article no article, pronoun or noun…
The human vocabulary grows thin.
I am thumbing through my thesaurus…

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