Pointers, Or Not

We are the thing
the people
with no thing
with everything
with nothing on our tongues,
everything is in our hands
and our fingers clinched down
so tight
they're screaming.

Point not lest you be pointed at
But look always at those fingers
those fingers that squish our food
it falls on the sidewalk in
pieces, this potato-piece, meat-piece,
veggie piece. juiced, pulpy pigeon meal.
Makes a salad, trash salad-bowl appetizer
fingers garnish like carrots
We're grinding these meals
into our palms
for later,
when our neighbor comes along.
for never,
because we moved our house to a desert.