Pressing Engagement

         Long Hair makes Face appear long and sallow, drawn like a well or a photograph of pea soup. When did Body stop needing alone, it seeps into the echoing cavernous space between tasks. Staring at shelves of packaged biscuits and cake mixes, Stomach gets the urge to down a pint of maple syrup, it would feel so sweet-sloshy until the yacking starts. Luckily, Feet walk in the direction of a queue instead, and Pulse does not want to tick that long, so we all opt to purchase nothing. Without purchase, Blood drudges and spurts to indicate compliance and urgency, although an insidious compliance: hence said urgency. Brain thinks one thought: Now what? After days of this staling comment, Hands demand more--a fist to the table. If they had a table, china would clatter, causing a stir. Tableless, Left Hand fingers air quietly while Right stretches wildly to grasp at air in front of Face. Face could not look more vacant. Face tries to look more vacant, but this strain only resembles piqued interest. Spine supports this charade for lack of more pressing engagements. Thursdays, Back goes out, we don't know to where. Lungs want a cigarette, oddly enough; so does Blood. Brain revolts, doesn't relish the idea of chemo; neither does Hair. Brain stays put while Pulse races with Blood. Body, equally divided, stands still.