Hand Jive

Hand Jive

Blind Bob:

Twitchy bee-bop, finger-snap, sheebam;
lookey here, Dude—
don’t give me no gang-jive,
or that flying bird one-finger salute,
or mystic palm readings
or even clever Ameslan—
no, no, no—
for right now, right here
I really need the full doctor talk
all about my carpels and tunnels
nails and quicks, creases and joints,
cuz my hands don’t strum
those six-bitch strings,
or work that metal slide
like they supposed to, man.

Doctor Roberts:

No problem, sir, I can spout that
terminology to your complete
and bluest satisfaction—guaranteed.

Blind Bob:

Dig it, Doc, four to the bar,
knock my chapeau off,
blow my argyles down,
fry my brain and plunge my drain,
and lay it down hard,
oh yeah!

Doctor Roberts:

I promise to check out both
the radial and ulmar borders,
massage your distal, proximal
and palmar phalanx, not disrespecting
those tender interphalangeals,
while gently stroking the Thenar.

Blind Bob:

Oopamow-wow, Bones, you got
my fingers walking
and my wrists jumping
into supination one,
or pronation too.

Doctor Roberts:

Talking ‘bout bones, Bob,
we gonna connect that pisiform
to the hamate, that triquetrun
to the capitates, that lunate
to the trapezoid, that scaphoid
to the trapezium, and then cap
it with a mighty melding of
the metacarpais to the phalanges!

Blind Bob:

You’re the coolest, man—
I feel better already.


Glenn Buttkus

May 2010

Listed as #125 over on dVerse Poets-OLN 29

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