NaPo 07 #12: Language

Another potential one for the threatened Love Poem chapbook thingy:

Language

So when did we start speaking
a different tongue? That first night
of passion, perhaps, our grunts
new symbols for art and thought;
or afterwards, meeting in bars,
shifting sounds to build barriers
between us and the crowds
admiring our mutual lusts?

Or did we develop our idiolect
browsing shops for furnishings,
partners in fashion crimes? I speak
you as well as you speak me,
and sometimes we even chat
silently, commands conveyed
by touch, look. Observe how
my shoulders type: 'I love you!'