Poetry

Chill Days, 1 (306.)

I used to get really excited
when I found out someone else
was left-handed,
like we both belonged to some
super-secret club
and the poor right-handers
just couldn’t understand.
Later I found out
that some folks are ambidextrous,
and Jesus,
how envious I was.
I already write like I’m a seven-year-old,
and if I attempt to write with my right hand
it looks like the scrawl of a toddler.
Anyway, I let go of my leftie obsession,
but I can’t help but point out left-handedness
when I spot it.
Last week, my new co-worker saw me scribbling
in my journal, and she said
“Chris, are you left-handed?”
“I sure am!” I said in response,
and it was then I remembered
that our other co-worker is left-handed too –
three out of four of the folks in that room
were left-handed!
It’s funny like that.
Usually, we’re all outnumbered.
I don’t know the exact numbers anymore,
but a small portion of the people on Earth
are left-handed.
I wanna be proud of it, even though it’s not
exactly in my control.
I keep playing video games where the character
is right-handed, and eventually, it irks me.
Where’s the option to hold the fucking gun
left-handed? Why can’t I
just toggle a setting that swaps everything?
I understand it’s probably difficult to program some of that stuff,
and the “left-handed version” of each item
has to be animated, I’m sure,
but like, come on.
Let me immerse myself even more.
Let me be left-handed.

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