testing the skin of my leg
wondering if you would ever
wonder too, about how my
parts are of one whole
& every cell & every vein
have no purpose except
to entertain this
existence.

& now my parts are in collusion
to make something of this sleight
of hand, maybe for once
try reality on
for size.

& find it too large,
too small. ill-cut & of
a distasteful cloth.

you should tell me
that this is the point, the purpose;
to traverse the street in silly truths
that hardly fit. & lay bare my mouth
which always lies & you could see
i seem to lack a point,
a purpose.