these slices of purpose between our finger nails are gone before we can decode the messages so all we have is grey and we wait in the dark, without debriefing for the glaring grey that hangs like a shadow on every door of the house as we puzzle at alternate spellings and car-pooling practices as we skim through our address book and pull at our shirts as we pose for job interviews and remember our photo ids we ignore the life that evaporates from our hands but if we breathe and stare at the sky just enough to not be aware of our own bodies that interrupt our presence in this world we may catch a glimmer of life as it rejoins the sea of sky, the grey