If I stand outside all day

And hold out my hand

With nothing in it

So that it is just a gesture that maybe suggests something to you

Maybe you will act on it

Maybe you will feel like you should shake it

Or put something in it for me to hold

The empty held out hand is uncomfortable for the both of us

Nerves set in and it shakes

And as the owner of the mind that controls my hand, I would ask you, politely, to use it and tame it

I would say: ‘Please make my hand feel useful’

And I will stand outside all day

Through the night

A whole twenty-four hours

And if you place a cigarette in it, I cannot smoke it

I cannot move my hand

It can hold things, but I cannot move it higher (I think) than my waist, or lower than my hips

These are the rules

When it gets cold, only one hand will wear a glove (the non-experimental hand)

The hand experiment has conditions

One of these is bareness of skin

The naked hand is maybe asking you to do something to it

Paint it?

Kiss my hand you beautiful thing!

Don’t be afraid of me, I am not handing out leaflets

I am not promoting a club night

But look at me and my hand

Even if only over your shoulder whilst you continue a conversation on your mobile phone

The hand is friendly, but it scares you

It does something your hand wouldn't chose to do

The pose isn’t natural

And you are suspicious

And when a crowd gathers round to question me

I am a quiet clown with nothing to say

But with a hand interrupting your daydream and asking of you to do what you will to it

Like a witch hunt of independent thinking hands

My differences are to be tested

With standardised pencils and various sized wedding rings

And I will prove myself capable to succeed in them all