my nose

I was sitting outside in the early evening darkness. I had my head tilted to the side resting in one hand which was supporting my chin. and it was just natural for my little finger to go up my nose. It felt good, so I slipped it into the other nostril. No one knew, but in the distance I could hear the highway hum of a car's tires rolling closer and then farther away, and a woman in a neighbor's house coughed near an open window, and children were still playing outside in this faded day become night, and in spite of my solitude, they are all too close, but as I push my finger around in my nose, they are not going to take my private moment. no matter the cost of dignity or hygiene. I need this sensation and I need this moment, and I need to feel the me only I know. personal dignity just got a little more personal, and a lot less dignified. I may wash my hands, but I am not sorry.