lost dna

When I notice a stray piece of hair or a jagged, torn fingernail fall to the ground, often I think that I should scoop it up, catch it from its fall and put it in my pocket. I must keep the evidence that I was there so no one can trace me. Must stay unknown and unseen. This thought of invisibility happens most often in places where anyone would expect me to be—my car, my house, my office. Maybe it’s just that I don’t pay attention in other spaces. Or maybe it’s in those spaces that I most need to disappear to ease it all away.