Words. I need words. I need all the words. And I don’t feel like I have them but I need them. I don’t just need words. I need the right words.
I used to have all the words. I used to have all the words. I used to be awash in words. "Pontificate for me, Justin" she would say. Where did I put all of the words? They seem scattered and hidden in places. I must have put them there to keep them safe but I don't remember doing it. I don't remember what I was keeping them safe from or was I keeping myself safe.
The words I have left: They're misplaced. They're disorganized. They're not the words I want.
"There's no good way to say what you need to say." How do I create a new language with all the words I want?
The little boy sat on the picnic table, his legs dangling as the wind tousled his hair that desperately needed a haircut.
"What are you thinking about?" She looked up at him, her big eyes filled with innocence and curiosity. Her words floated in the breeze and landed gently on the boys ears, carrying him back from where he had gone.
"I wonder if clouds talk."
The girl scrunched up her face. "You sound like you're hungry."
"Maybe."
The girl reached into her pocket and fished out an apple. She rose from her reclined position and offered the apple to the boy. "Do you want my apple?"
"Won't you be hungry?"
"It's more important that you eat. I only get hungry for your words."
The boy gently took the apple from the girl's hand and studied her carefully. Then turning his full attention to the apple, he seemed lost in thought. "I miss my words. I think some of them went missing."
The girl looked down with sadness. "Will you not make words for me?"
The boy gazed at the apple, appearing to not have heard the question. A moment passed.Then the boy turned to the girl. "For you? For you, I would make an entire language."
