no one's somebody

no one's somebody

try describing the day without walking

on tiptoes without fielding

dismissals at every opening

of this mouth

nevermind

this tongue doesn't crouch down like

a dog, lying

this breath isn't as cool

as some pretend it might be

but what about the lips

this voice what about

the teeth?

someone smiled in an empty room

someone took a typewriter to an open wound

someone clanged a key on a piano, it was sharp

how does the shape of someone's hands

compare to the contour of another's face?

i've been asking this question for years

and still, people are afraid

of low blue lights, people are

frightened by familiar touch, moving slow.

people are devastated by the tomorrows stacked

like loose pennies in a shot glass

nobody here is a gambler anymore

someone still tries to define the physics of touch

without geometry or psychic calculations.

she could delineate the economics of skin and

quantum nature of puddles. the largest organ

feels on the inside, this touch

is a challenge. i sense

a worthy teammate,

a matched opponent.

hypothetically, no one is coming

on their own anymore. and in theory

we're all whole until halved. yet

science and method have proved

nonsense, i have no needs.

this fascinating experiment

has concluded. someone

is out of a job

must take off a coat

someone will lose. and nobody

will find the cure

nobody can keep a secret. except

that somebody. who does.

11/30/11