my hands have starred in many scenes,
small films over time.
grainy in black and white
or bright in airbrushed lines
in certain roles they've looked wrong,
gripping a cigarette, clutching a bottle.
they've looked too young.
they've appeared older than they are.
they wipe your tears, trace your scars.
pick you up off the floor.
but still they appear, you can't always choose the next move
so they play the given part.
the dingy scenes here and there
seem to hardly exist at all.
hot summers will blind
and then white snow will fall.
but my hands stay busy because
where they move,
my head follows, dizzy
but still whole. my hands
are the leading actors and my body
stays clean,
my mind is muddled but dreams.
these are their roles.