Lyrics

I spent an hour watching the way people hold hands The way palms meet palms The intricacy of fingers laced around other fingers like a fine stitching of some worn fabric I spent an hour watching hands The first was a young couple I watched the way his hands waited in the air, hers complacent to her side I watched as he grabbed hers, locked it around his fingers Like an overprotective father holds on to the innocence of his daughter And just like the overbearing of a father and the rebellion of a child She was resistant Held his only for a moment, then she would let go She did this at least several times. I would watch them I would laugh in my mind, but soon it was not so funny The way her fingers would drop his after holding them so quickly Never tightly Never did she hold his back I could just imagine how much she was holding back He never got the hint, though He just kept finding her fingers, locking them in his grip It let me know that he was in love Alone This woman and man let me know that their entire relationship could be summed up In the way she kept letting go of his hands Soon, there were another set of fingers and thumbs, mid-20s I could tell by the entanglement of nubs that they were still new in love Hands dangling in the air, swinging backwards and forwards like swings Like not a care Something about the swaying, the way they head each other's hands, let me know that it wasn't so serious But it was getting there I watched them I could tell by the lightness in the grasp that if she wanted to go there, he was just as ready as her hands Third couple I could see the possession in his middle finger I could see the same hands he used to hold hers what presently maybe had been across her face before The same fingers that were tied into a knot around hers had simultaneously been around her neck I could see the excuses she made for him in the way she bit her fingernails It let me know that she grew her patience in other places I never looked at her face, but I could see the rock in her palm I could see the ownership in his fist Because he never, never held her hand He carried her wrist Third couple wasn't a couple at all It was one set of hands Her companion was a cell phone She was not connected to another human at this present moment, she was busy Sharing her attachment to an iPhone Texting fingers, probably wishing they were touching another human's collarbone There was a young man A stranger Homeless, a drifter Fingernails filled with all the dirty things people in subways forget on their seats Palms crammed with excuses for spare change, fingers long as the highways I'm sure he's walked on He tells her that he's heading to Alabama He doesn't ask for change She's surprised He extends his hand She is as hesitant with her life jacket as a Christian is to a Jehovah's Witness Finally, she latches on Her grasp is faint, her grip is weak Wipes her hand on her black book sack after he leaves The stains won't show there The fourth set of hands were my favorite They were different from the rest Hands were creased like the ones in his pants and were filled with lines like maps I'm thinking, I'm thinking that showed where they'd been He would occasionally lift hers to his mouth to taste the sweetness of their time together They walked slow Their hands did not fidget Never uncomfortable with the space or the silence between them Held each other with such a closeness, I could not tell where their hands would begin and end No need to swing them while they walked They were comfortable with the certainty of the journey They were in this together, not letting you slip through my hands, wrapped around each others' triggers Olden age, twisted in skin and palm and fingers There was something about the way their hands were as certain as their steps together Interwoven like a fabric, hands entwined like the material in sweaters I watched them the longest Thought that, thought that I could learn the way to hold on from them Thought that, that maybe the secret to longevity was hidden in the maps in their hands And that maybe Just maybe I wouldn't be that girl that let go of that stranger's hand So quickly If I take your hand in mine Would you let go Or hold on, for sure? I'm waiting at the bus stop Tell me, will you stop for me or go?