i’ve sewn on
buttons.
i’ve repaired
a rip
with needle
and thread.
it takes me
a long time
to get
the thread
through
the needle.
it takes me
a long time
to sew
the button
on,
to close
the rip.
mostly what i do is
watch
other people
walking
to other places.
mostly what i do is
watch
other people
talking
to other people.
a few hours a day
i sit in a
small shop
with a large window
and watch people
go by.
right now,
i am
sitting here,
watching
other people
go by.
earlier
in the day,
when i was
walking
to this small shop,
i was
bristling,
humming,
with anger.
anger
is really
fear.
anger
is really
sadness.
anger
is really
the way that
males seem to be
instructed
to feel.
when i look at
other people
sometimes
they appear
angry.
many times
they appear
afraid.
every time
they appear
as people.
some people
have red hair
and freckles.
green eyes
and a twin.
some people
have a
younger sister.
an older brother.
some people
go skiing at night.
some people
never leave their
neighborhood;
the lake is only
a mile or two
away,
might as well be on
another planet.
what all of this ever
is is
a stitching.
a handling
of parts.
a trying to
bring something back together
again.
some of the time
it takes a life time,
many life times.
some of the time
it happens
in an instant.
zakschafer.com 