I sit on the sidelines of my life,
my legs crossed at the ankles and
head tilted to one side.
My fingers are crossed, not for luck,
but because I have nothing else to hold
and so I hold myself in my palms.

If I was to let go and allow my hands
to lay limply at my sides, I fear I would
go everywhere at once.
The molecules that make up this skin
would escape and scatter like a man’s ashes
poured over the river’s torrent.

I am a non-participant. This is like
a clip out of a slow movie; I sit
in the bleachers and do nothing.
My feet rest on the red gravel path
and I think, perhaps I will take a run around
the track as I wait for the game to end.