A bit of twisted hair around an index finger
And suddenly the circulation starts to go
(a deep purple fingertip?)

You lose one button, tiny, pearlized
And suddenly you've nothing left to hide
(there's nothing underneath?)

One second under an almost motionless eyeball
And you've been examined, weighed, discarded
(but i thought the inside counted?)

the smallest
pebble
in your shoe will cause a limp
that's why skaters' parents put
coins in the skates
of other competitors

and when did this all become so petty
like everything hinges on minutiae

or hangs like the Sword of Damocles
by a hair over our heads

a tiny detail
that, twisted around an index finger

cuts off the circulation to our heads

08/09/2003

Posted on 08/10/2003
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