Pursuant of All the Conversations in Which I Could Not Speak

You can't get a word
          in edge-wise
when speaking
    to the fork-tongued.
You can't wait
          for a pause
when listening
       to the breathless.
Conversations
         deconstructing
     themselves
   like kamikaze
                syllables
      crashing
            in empty oceans
or extremist phrases
         detonating
            in vacant lots,
so this one's for the cause:
    the coinage
          of language
  is facing
       an inflation
              crisis.
Soon we'll be writing books
          to say hello,
and sequels
          to say goodbye.