Twiggy spider on my yoga mat thank you for undoing the past hour of self folding and holding with your unannounced appearance. I know you’ve been watching and have suggestions for how I carry my body. After all I have a thousand times the neurons and only a fraction of your intention and grace. You walk on eight stilettos and still men like me chase beauty and women and forget you exist. But we get each other. We’re foreign to ourselves but not strangers. We give birth and die. And in the in-between we weave and cradle worlds with our extremities. We might even for a second acknowledge the other in passing: I a moving mountain, You a pebble who has seen it all from your small corner of the world.