I lost my voice sometime the other night. It must have been when we were in the car and you kept sticking half of your body out the window when we were on the Roebling. You opened the window and sat on the arm rest and looked all above you, at the stars and the bridge and the sky and everything insane. I laughed and yelled along with you. We turned everything up. I opened my window to yell and I guess that’s when it got lost. It must have just fallen out of my throat; I didn’t feel it. But all week I’ve been struggling to pronounce my words, to tell people exactly what I think or feel. People ask me what I want for lunch and I strain to say, “I don’t know.” People ask me what we’re listening to and I grab at my throat and kick myself and say, “I don’t know.” People ask me what I said and I barely breath, “I don’t know.”
I lost my voice in the embrace of impossibility and now I want to punch people in a pantomime of morse code just so they’ll listen up and understand what I want to say.
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