sky (mixed media on fingernails)

in my homeland, what we do is

we drive around clover-shaped
on and off ramps
noting as we merge
the sunlight rupturing the cloud canopy
like the voice of cartoon Jesus

we say things to each other like
"Look how beautiful the sky looks"
and then we say
"Yeah"

​we park at the nail salon 
where a woman's transcontinental depth and breadth of experience
boils down to
"Pick a color"

​we pick a color
confront the wall stacked with tiny tinted bottles
shades on shades on shades

the woman touches our hands
she knows our hands better than we do
she could pick them out of a lineup
she knows if we smoke or bite our nails or crack our knuckles or wash dishes by hand

we don't know what language she is speaking

she finishes and admires her work
ten identical tiny paintings
she says "Pretty color"
and then we say
​"Yeah"

we go out into the parking lot
hold our hands up to the sky
admire the pale blue shimmer against the pale blue shimmer
a pleasing match
an offering
and get back in the car.