I Continue To Be Fascinated With Hands

I. The lines along them tell the stories of things unspoken and never known. We like to think we know our futures, how could we ever know?

II.  They hold the door, they pause, they are unsteady. Too many nerve endings, too many nerves. Doors of course to his future, things unknown just like the lines on his hand.

III.  They are the hands that held his moms when he was a boy, they were once smooth, they are no longer smooth. Wrinkled like the Earth. Wrinkled like the sky. He cannot get those smooth hands back.

IV.  More honest than his face. Faces can lie too easily. This boy can put on a perfect smile but his hands still shake at the lies.

V.  They hold her hand, because this is honest. The faces lie because she is scared and he is nervous. They don’t shake anymore.

VI.  They hold tighter. The fingers intertwined.  She is so small compared to him, her fingers so dainty. He holds her and feels powerful. She holds him and pretends she isn’t so alone.

VII.  Capable of life, capable of taking life away. Too powerful and yet, cut and bruised. He punches a wall and his hand breaks. He punches a person and they break. He can push away worries or create them.

VIII.   Waves of goodbye and waves of hello, beginnings and endings, no lies of course. These ten digits are not capable of lies.

IX. Holding and dropping and pushing and pulling. They are of his own creation and his means of life.

X.  His hand will never have a ring. They are hands only meant to be alone. The girl and the boy pretend they are one. Maybe hands can lie.


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