If body language, the way
breathing speeds up, levels
off and slows, the involuntary
shudders that take and shake
us head to foot, encourage
understanding, then we still
need our tongues for more
than French kisses. When

they convey endearments,
do the hushes of Russian
foster whispering, the level
stress of Japanese, an elegant
minimalism? If even low
currents of voices, hurried
mumbles among fumblings,
have the potential to shock

and burn, what can protect
us? Maybe those barriers--
cultural as much as linguistic,
cordoning off a licensed 'this'
from a forbidden 'that'-- fall,
and in speech that passes language,
we comprehend the other
stripped still more naked. Is

audio dress, when there is
very little else, just enough
to cover pleasure? Could it
be each time we come together,
my dear, for all we've learned of
how or who or where we are, we
are undone, and start again from
scratch to learn the language?