Homophones would get stuck in the telephone
If I called, and picked up.
The vernacular is a pidgin of elisions,
A parataxis of catachresis.
My discourse is of course
Discursive. Relative. Mom
Asks what’s up. I say,
Nothing, Or nothing.
Both mean something
She tunes out if I say something
That sounds like jargon. Sounds nice, she says.
In person she sees my face
Value, though I might as well be signing––
Speaking cipher language.
As usual, I’m speaking for myself.
I drop calls when dropping a line falls
Flat and sinks with utter enigmas
That threaten to turn
Into omissions–– I fidget
With ideas I can’t literally say:
Hold conversation, keep in touch,
Real talk––I never
Get hung up on
Phonemes, but hang myself
Over semantics, and resign,
Sifting through synonyms online,
To keep sameness
Mom says, If you don’t have anything nice to say––
I say, Say nothing, nicely, or nothing nicely,
And I need to listen.