I Have Ten Fingers

Insects, beasts with
 no
Opposable digits,
who knows
If they have math
In their head,
Magnitudes and whatnot,

 Their bodies made to
Encourage cut corners; round
Spider webs, not square
Skyscrapers, honeycombs,
Not high-rises.

Birds, born with the
Ability to fly,
Know more than
East 
and West,
North and South;


They know
Altitude. Us 
ground-dwellers,
Stuck 
with jumping
And pushing 
elevator
Buttons, buying
 plane

Tickets and bungee
 passes,
We don’t concern
Ourselves with lift,
Drag,
 elevation.
But ten, ten is

Always there.
You can count 
on it,
Rake your hands
In the dirt,
 press
Them against your thigh

When you think
No eyes
Are
 on you,
Come up
With all the answers.

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