Senescence

I used to enjoy
the petting zoo,

but now

we live
in the disappearance

of the real
human hand.

The wind

expands into indigo

taking my skin

on a walk 

through the park. 

The squirrels 

are so close

I can smell them.

Even when 

the birds are nudging,

even when 

my spine pumps

the fertile crescent 

through my 

nervous system,

I can't 

touch anyone.