Circa 1989, revised 2014.

When I bite my nails

I can think about stuff

And, it really doesn’t matter

If I’m good enough

. . . .

When I bite my nails

I can do it myself

And, it really doesn’t matter

To that file on the shelf

. . . .

So, I bite my nails

And, they get really short

And, they don’t look “nice”

They’re the ugly sort

. . . .

And, each one is different

Not like the rest

Some are jagged, some are ragged

And, I always have a favorite

One that I like the best.

. . . .

When I bite my nails

It really is a thing

Heavy thinking, and brain-storming

Integrating everything

. . . .

Even science has a theory

Mucophagy  can enhance

The immune system. Well

Then

Let me take a chance

. . . .

At my own little posit:

Biting nails may provide

A similar protection

Try it sometime, you’ll decide

. . . .

Meantime, all I know is

Every finger that I use

Playing piano, playing cello

Channel-typing from my muse

. . . .

Seems particularly grateful

To be free of excess claws.

So, you can keep your manicure

And polish, see, because

. . . .

When I bite my nails

I don’t have to be

Anything, or anyone

Not even you

Just

me.

.

.

.

.

© Ruth Ann Scanzillo

11/23/14

all rights; ! would you claim this??