My Left Thumb
The last knuckle of my left thumb, I have been told, bends
dangerously far backward. _It is the thumb of a murderer._
How powerful words can be! Who has power to answer such
words that lodge in the joints has power indeed.
It is to this task I now turn, while my left thumb rests
innocently on the page, calmly unflexed -- almost indifferent to
the arguments of the right hand.
After all, my left thumb is incapable of executing even a
single forcible word (without smudges) and feels justly assured
of exoneration.
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