March 14, 2013

It is a fairly scarred thing now, my left thumb.
The skin grows back weirdly from were I pulled
a piece of flesh with that potato peeler; the broken blood
vessels from the teeth; the thin nearly healed mark
the serrated edge of that plastic wrap left. You were
not around for any of that. To think how much my thumb

has changed, and now you, who was once so familiar
with that thumb, stays steeped in ignorance. Well,
the thumb has moved on.

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