Yet a week before that,
And a month has passed since then;
The girl with three mouths
Spoke to me, and I am not the same.
Who could not be moved?
Could you remain silent in her presence?
A slate of questions came fast to my mind:
What is your favorite color?
“Red,” her first mouth answered;
“Green,” her second insisted;
“Blue!” her third nearly shouted.
What about this weather?
“It’s too cold,” the first mouth complained;
“I wish it were colder. Then, it might snow,”
The second voiced with an audible twinkle;
“At least it’s not hurricane season,” the third
Grumbled with a dismissive edge.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
“A veterinarian,” the first mouth enthused,
“I want to heal sick puppies.”
“No,” the second argued, “The internet
Is where the real money is.”
“We’re going to play pro. basketball!”
The third said, near tantrum, “End of story.”
And finally, I asked on her quality of life:
Do you enjoy having three mouths?
“Yes,” the first mouth averred;
“No,” the second contradicted;
“Maybe,” the third hedged.
And then, the three launched into
The most raucous debate over the merits,
The pitfalls, and the downright annoyances
Of having a mouth in triplicate.
Who could not be drawn deeper
Into her conversational triangle?
I had to know; I had to ask:
Is there anything your three mouths agree upon?
There followed an important pause,
A deliberate moment in which she seemed
Not only to put my question to her thoughts
But in which the answer itself seemed to grow.
Even she, I believe, was enlightened by
Her own response:
“People talk too much,” the three mouths
Nearly sang in unison.
I considered this wise counsel indeed,
Profound in its effect upon me.
That night, I cried,
Tears of joy streaming down
As I slept a dreamless sleep.
Copyright 2008 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.