Plain Speech

It was unavoidable: eventually I had to open my mouth.
What were the other options? A long silence,
Lock up the lips, stop thinking, just be...

Is that even being?
What a particular idea of speech:
My lips hum and I move my mouth,
Clicking with my tongue --
You understand.

But how is that different from opening and closing a door,
Or making a sandwich? We try to get what we want,
I would say, but it isn't so exact: to paraphrase
Aristotle, we act as we are; we are as we act.
Speaking is just a part of that.

The difficulty is being precise:
It's not that I want what I say to be useful,
Just right. But what do I mean?

It isn't the beauty of nature or the heart's secrets --
When you need a color, dab it, but sparingly.
Remember: Homer is filled with dialects,
And not one, but every common-place,
To fit the meter.

I would begin by saying
I'm sitting clumped-up in dirty sweats,
Here, typing: no subtleties, that's a fact,
If not forever. What else?
I'm sure I'll think of something.