The key is to construct a self from
scraps. Be it an origami lily with
a credit card bill, or collage pieced
using childhood photos. Think
of a lost puzzle piece, its edge
bent to fit. Think of a home
as a blueprint, with a toilet
tap that keeps dripping
even when tightened till
the forearm aches. Think of
window blinds as rebars,
a ribcage as an iron scaffold.
Think of father at the balcony,
eyes closed. Before him, the city
sprawling like his firstborn child,
excited with a crayon stick.