"You! You!"
waving my outstretched finger before your stunned face,
a straight, straight finger, like a hollow plastic toy, squared at the edges, gray or blue, with a foggy effect where the plastic has flexed but was spared snap!
"You!"
my finger is a plug-in tape head demagnetizer, you've no idea, your head is completely erasable and I'm kick-flipping little skateboard-shaped particles, scrambling your brain,
"Y-"
I'm thinking about the scale of my finger in front of your face. My finger is the muzzle of a toy musket, certainly not life-sized but not miniature. It is not a miniature.
It is the blade of a fan in slow-motion but its circle is not flat, it is flattened, driven by an 18th century machine that imitates random motion, by springs, pendulums, pulleys, etc., etc., the motion of a fly, my earliest instinct of patternless jealousy.
You are standing before the kinetic sculpture in an airport lobby, surrounded by sizzling fuses, measuring their deaths, fireworks celebrating decisiveness, you are motionless, aware that you may stay as long as you'd like, or rather as long as you'd not like to do anything else, coffee-sick and heartbroken, fuzzing your eyes in and out, the monotonous bustling sending you into a state of infinite tickling.
You may stand and ponder but only as a cat ponders. The monument self-winds. Its feet are bolted to the floor. So are yours.
On the tip of my plastic finger is a point which your black eyes can follow along a plain, the Etch-A-Sketch screen becoming more and more clear so that my face is starting to appear behind it.
The point on the tip of the plastic wand is made of the smallest kind of Lego piece, a single bit, so beautifully gem-like, it is translucent yellow, red or blue, often adorning the tip of a spaceship's wing but most becoming as a gas-filled prism, embedded in the wall of some Brutalist structure, perfecting aspects of window, ignoring others, letting in the spirit of light, not its story.
The tip of my finger is a 1-bit Lego window and I am Picasso waving it before an open lens.
