Sewing Kits

She was occupied with to solving the maze on her thumb. Checking the mannequins for belly buttons. Sealing the envelopes with nothing inside them. Trying to be like everyone else. Thinking there's still time enough to be that person.

The maze of her thumbs took her all over the small universe of her hand. Little touches and big ones. Words never written on paper. The solution was obvious, though hardly welcome. Be content where you are. No need to know its origins. Don't go looking for exits you'd rather not find.

Such is the nature of listening. That we hear things we'd rather not have. The artist too high to stop the brush. From telling his secret. The man explaining himself to no one. I'm not that high because if I was I wouldn't be able to see the bottom.

There he was like a rooster. Shattering all that darkness. Microscopic megaphones of skin shouting heavens in our ears. The buttons falling off of shirts we've worn too long. And me, not caring what shows in their abesnse.