I go to the closet to select a tie.
I say to myself what could happen.
I go for a tie only.
But there is no tie there I like enough 
to choose.
Who would have guessed this might happen.
My mother, and laughing to herself.

I look for my hand at the end of my arm
and it is there but it will not work.
I have nothing to do but still it will
not work.
Who would have guessed such a hand
would depress me.
What do I ask of a hand.
That it be soft like my mother’s.
That it be hard like my father’s.
That it be bigger than my son’s.
That it tear out the hearts of strangers.I go to the closet to select a tie.
I say to myself what could happen.