with elephantine insights
knows but cannot tell
because of hereditary taciturnity.
It was speechless
when it found itself dumb––
no one had cut off a tongue.
It had aspirations and desiderata,
wanted you to become a fighta
pilot, live the dangerous life.
The self-congratulatory doppelgängsta,
that cheeky mirror image on the left,
speaks the lingua franca, aces
job interviews, forces you to live
level-headed. Right-side rejoinders
can be known in the halfway houses:
falling asleep and falling awake.
Modest and humble, it
has no viva voce in the gray matter, but
ferrys its virtues ashore
on waves of a wrenching gut,
a nagging hunch, not to mention
transcendent art and music, until
we divine its speechless whispers.