i would not
give my life away
to the perfect piece
or let a sham engineer
take its credit
from me.

i love myself too much
and hate him just enough
to recognize
the difference.

but the perfect piece;

that is painfully
beyond my grasp.

i would quickly cut
my hands from me
and train them
to walk
and to find
what it is
that i seek.

pay them in gold
or in
the beauty of feet.

take myself
from my body.

leave it laying around.

i can hardly
train a cat,
much less
myself.

and cats display ballet.
the music to accompany it
plays while i watch.
no words can describe
what no words can describe.

a signature
is stepping in ink
unaware
and walking across
the page.

cats and mice
are the only ones
with names.