Your Chicanery

machine of fingers
make decisions
and keep going,
applauding the fear
that is found in between
blood knuckles and nerves.

whether you are happy or scared,
the needle keeps going
and your decisions have effect,
curtailing my mornings
with a mouse click
or an iPhone fingering.

this a daily double-cross,
stretching for years,
ignoring a history between
hands that used to hold each other
in stairwells and 17th street wine bars,
but this is where we are now,
nowhere at all.

some people give up
and some people dance,
but that is just my opinion,
and I am no machine,
because I have a heart
and a plot;
this is skullduggery.