let the water's currency
pass from palm to palm
scooped up or cupped
from an open tap
its anonymity going public
as a cloak of foam
hands twist and shimmy
dancing fast and close
till they're indistinguishable
and all hands are right
the skin sheds its oils its soil
its toil-colored self
once again to whisper away
the kiss of living
risky as it is
with unseen tasks
***
Thanks to the anonymous graffiti artist whose rendering of the word TASKS in giant letters on a passing train gave me the closing word.
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