In the game version,
I whipped out a machete and gestured with it,
tried to speak,
but had no words.
I waved the machete, chopped it through the air,
to say “you go over there,
I want to make you dinner,”
but I had nothing but a machete.
I clattered around in the kitchen,
knocked over bowls and tureens and the milk jug,
made nothing but a mess.
you were still standing still where I left you,
I couldn’t say anything to you,
though I had so much to tell you, about my day,
about the unfair world we lived in.
I had no way of expressing,
beyond my handful of actions,
just how full my heart felt,
when I saw you there.