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