body talk.

I stare at my fingers, as if they know what it is I want to say. If they do know, they're not talking. Stubborn fingers. I consider torturing them, but feel that even that would not break their loyalty to whatever secret they keep. Also, something in me feels that this is a bad idea.

The rest of my body is silent, too. It's not that my anatomy can't talk, it's just not the time. They have nothing to say now. Most body parts have more sense than mouths do and know when it's time to be silent.

Some parts never talk, though. Elbows don't say much, neither do shins. They make a little noise if you go banging them into coffee tables or other people, but otherwise they're just the strong, silent types. That's one reason why you never see any books by elbows, although I've heard they're quite funny. The other reason is because they have trouble typing.

Some parts don't talk because they just don't have the sense. Ankles are like that. Ankles are too busy bending and flexing and just generally being ankles to waste time in conversation, and they haven't the sense to do both at once. Once my right ankle stopped to talk to another girl's left ankle and I came crashing down. That ankle should've been holding me up, not making conversation. The swelling didn't really go down for years, and my ankle looked a little lopsided when I wore heels. Now the ankle wouldn't dare say anything, except when there is a storm coming, and then it just won't shut up and I can't get it to do anything. Sometimes I suspect my other ankle wants to sneak in a few words when I'm sitting down, not using it. I bet my hurt ankle would warn it not to try it if it dared to speak. I just start jiggling my foot to give it something to do. You have to watch out for ankles; they just don't know any better.

Hips like to talk, and they like to have an audience. Hips speak a language so strange and foreign that it puts you under a spell, but you never know exactly what it is they say, nor do you really care. Hips-speak is very seductive, and you don't have to understand it to appreciate it. It's a good thing my mouth doesn't know Hips-speak, otherwise I'd never get any work done.

Stomachs are workaholics and don't want to have time for chit chat. They have a very important job, and they know it. Everyone knows that stomachs talk. You have to make sure that stomachs have something to do at all times, or they get mad and yell at you. It's terribly embarrassing. It would be like your mother bursting into your World Civ class where you sit right behind that guy whose hips you can't help listening to and screaming that you skipped breakfast this morning. Never argue with a stomach.

Bones like to work too. Bones are smart and mischievous, so it's best to keep them busy so they don't have idle time to play tricks on you. They don't like to be still. Sometimes you have to be still, because it's not always the time for cartwheels. That's when the bones get mean. They get stiff and don't want to work right when you finally do start moving around. That's because they're pouting. Sometimes they make popping noises and then everyone looks at you and your bones laugh because they know they've embarrassed you.

The problem with bones is that they have to work with muscles, and muscles are just plain lazy. Muscles only talk if you use them too much. And then they don't just talk, they scream. Muscles are like those mouths who don't have much concept of their own volume, except muscles do it on purpose. And when a muscle screams, it makes you scream too because it's just so awful. Also, muscles pout when they're mad by not doing their job properly. They do it just enough to get by so you don't chop them off or something, but not enough for you to be able to pass off as a normal person walking down the street. Then you look like some sort of cretin, walking like you have no sense at all and screaming at the same time. You have to find a balance in your activity to keep both your muscles and your bones happy.

Eyes are tactless. Some people, not me, but I've heard this is true, have enough sense to be quiet sometimes. They know better than to say what they are thinking. But eyes will give you away every time. Eyes will work together with your eyelids and eyebrows and together they say a whole lot that maybe they shouldn't. They say yes when you mean no and no when you mean yes, and they tell your friend how her haircut really looks. Eyes talk too much. When a person drinks alcohol, then their eyes don't work correctly, and so your mouth says all the things that eyes usually say. You can get in a lot of trouble that way.

But right now, no one is saying anything. I've been sitting here awhile, so my bones are getting a little restless and sneaky, and I think my muscles are asleep. My stomach is busy with breakfast, and my hips are waiting for a time when there is more of an audience to appreciate their beautiful monologues. My eyes aren't saying much of anything because I'm not thinking of much of anything, and my mouth is silent because there's no one here to answer it. I'm jiggling my feet to keep the ankles busy. My fingers still aren't telling me their secrets, although since they are my fingers, I think I have a right to know them.

It's very quiet.