Dialogue

What do you say when you're at a loss for words; when the words are stuck, "like honey on bread"? (That's for you, Stevens)
What does it mean when the words that come out in English mean nothing at all, and the easy ones in Spanish mean the most?
"¿Cómo estás?" 
How are you? How. Are. You. How are you in your own existential state right now? You exist, you live, breathe, talk, laugh, cry, shout, roll your eyes, etc. How is it?
When you walk down the street under the brilliant sun, how are you?
When you sit on a park bench and throw away your brown, jagged apple core, how are you?
When you heave a sigh, and feeling chagrined, put your head in your hands, how are you?
When you stare at the broad convexity of the T.V. screen, and let your mind be sucked away for a brief hour, just to relax, how are you?
When you are folding laundry and the house is quiet, and you say to yourself, "Self, boring is nice", how are you?
When you've got a bizarre thought, and you feel so satisfied writing it down, how are you?
When your mind is full, your heart is open, and your eyes are too, how are you?

I know how I am when I sit in my living room in the small hours of the night, and my soul feels thinner and folded like the paper pinwheels above the front window. Pinwheels are noncommittal. Each spoke is gently rounded in half, without a crease, making nothing about the pinwheel permanent.
Interestingly enough, it's that indecisiveness that makes the pinwheel spin.

I'm like this pinwheel. My loss for words is like that gentle curve of the paper. If I express something, the paper creases, and the spinning stops. Sometimes limbo is a nice place to be. There is hope in the in-between, like there is wind in the looped paper, and it keeps the momentum going.
The sad part is, you'll never know, in limbo. What was I going to say? You'll never know, because then the pinwheel won't spin and I can't say meaningless English words to you again, and meaningless words are better than no words at all, right? Words with no substance are at least words, and maybe one day I can find the right words and string them together in just the right way, that they'll shake the foundation of the mountain you stand on, and topple it into the coursing river of reaction below. If I do that though, there is no way of knowing whether or not you will climb out, sopping wet, on to my bank of the river.

That's why English is hard. When you talk, what does it mean? Words are words are words are words are words and

dialogue can be cheap.