They know
I swear that they know

They know
When you have to play an instrument
That you have to use your mouth for

Or when you're talking to someone
An older person, maybe?
And they have a hard enough time
Understanding you
As it is

Or when you're eating
And they either make you choke
Or spew half-devoured food
Across the table
Or
A mouthful of milk
All over your lactose intolerant
Sibling

Or when you chew gum
And somehow it ends up
In your stomach
Or on the ground

Or when you're at a formal event
Such as a wedding
Or a funeral
Or the like
And they start immediately once the room
Or the people around you
Go
q
u
  i
  e
   t
    .

They break the awkward
Or special
Or moment-of-silence

So clearly

Like when you fall off a bike
And land on your face
(goodness me, where is your helmet?)
And you feel that
Awful crunch of bones and eyeballs and flesh

But
If they start—
and you know that they will—
During a funeral
Or a wedding
Or some other nice occasion like that
You may as well have fallen off a bike on your face

At least in the hospital
You won't be ruining a special moment
And when they start
Isn't that just another symptom?

.
.
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