I speak normally when in the company of normal people who enjoy normal things.
I speak inappropriately with my friends.
I think incoherently in my head and when I begin to drink too much cheap whiskey I talk to myself in bathrooms.

When I write I attempt to speak eloquently but I can't do that when I speak in bathrooms
or in my head
or with my friends
or when in the company of normal people who enjoy normal things

                                         so I usually just go to sleep.

In my dreams I speak to children
and monsters
and ex-girlfriends.

I don't know why I speak so many different ways to so many different people.

I want to speak with my hands but they refuse to speak with me. My hands only speak to the women who I hint at love with. I don't know what my hands say but it must not be very nice because the women eventually stop hinting back.

I want to teach my hands to speak kindly and warmly, but not sweatily, and to only occasionally speak the way I do with my friends.

Sitting on a shady bench,
I watch the people pass -
Every shape and color,
Strolling sweatily en masse.

Shirtless daddies, many fat,
With bellies hanging out,
Arms and legs and backs tattooed
(And other parts, no doubt).

Moms deciding where to go,
Cajoling tots in line;
Babies, toddlers, school-age kids
In every stage of whine.

Heat pours down and patience frays.
Wait! Here's a parade.
Cookie Monster, Ernie, Bert
And Oscar make the grade.

Then it's back to water slides
And one more carousel.
Squeals and shrieks of joy erupt -
It's fun! (or can't you tell?)

Hungry! Thirsty! Feed me now!
Nacho stand is closed.
See the stress within the smiles
Of pictures poorly posed.

Still, the fam's together
And we're mostly having fun.
I check my watch - 6 hours left
Until this day is done.