The lines of life on my palm,formed so hard in a fistful
of neo-natal agonies,
altered faintly through the pen-holding
keypad tapping days,
faded a bit through the hand-holding
tear-wiping phases,
destined to speak of my identity
beyond all invented categories...
they remain so certain, so well-marked
like a road-map that will lead me
one day to what I haven’t seen,
dreamt, of my ultimate mis/fortunes.
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