How Long Have I Been Doing This?
How long have I been doing this?
Counted on my fingertips,
no second lost, not one dismissed.
They’re stored in some covert abyss
and can’t be missed,
they can’t resist,
with zip-tied wrists
and balled-up fists,
these moments on my fingertips–
today is on the waiting list,
today’s a clear-cut plagiarist–
when yesterday fell short, shortlisted,
today insists it preexisted,
now yesterdays are knotted, twisted,
zip-tied wristed, balled-up-fisted,
abyssed, dismissed, blue fingertips,
about today, they reminisce
and ask each other, in a hiss,
how long have I been doing this?