Look At Your Thumbs

I remember learning from Paul Simon, not the one with the carpet shop.
I remember him teaching us about the ways of the world.
Syncopated ruminations on daily toil and plebeian graft,
He was Atlas holding up the sky with chords.

I learnt about The Myth of Fingerprints and the former talk show host,
Every finger or thumbprint is distinct.
Individuality incarnate and humanity humbled,
Rhyming Simon say topographical swirls define our lives.

A small, Italian plumber has worn away my uniqueness,
A swift, blue hedgehog has erased my identity.
Digits enslaved to a Phrygian cap wearing swordsman,
Appendages transformed to tools for weaponised karts.

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Start,
I’ve managed to land the monkey right on the 100!
Seven hundred and forty six hours spent attaining virtual glory,
We heroes painted the city blue and saved the Graydians.

Look at your thumbs,
Can you see the spirals that make you who you are?
Look at your fingers,
A lifetime of collecting valueless coins has left us ghosts.

Over the mountain down in the valley lives a former human being,
Abandoned now just like the high score.
There is no doubt about it, it was The Myth of Fingerprints,
I’ve seen them all and now mine are no more.


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