My silence makes me a thief
or a beggar
[a plastic non-returnable bottle].
The oyster jaws clamp stubbornly
trapping the often soft and liquid tongue
(now a lump of dough in my mouth
that cannot be swallowed or spit out).
Even a small explanation
of intimidation
struggles for release
only to float free and burst
silent and useless as a soap bubble.
		.  .  .
Being too wary of misstep
may result in no movement forward.
[There are no deadly bungles - 
nothing that cannot be forgiven.]
		.  .  .
As is usually the case
words in my head
that won't fit in my mouth
flow easily onto nonjudging paper.