A Passing Reading

The chimp stretched its arm, hand palm up under my chin, fingers and thumb supple, a pink-pawed sharing. It’s a palmistry offering, if only I had the skill to read it. There is a life-line. It looks a lot like mine, there are breaks in it like mine. I see a heart-line, but it seems squeezed to one side, like mine. His handler moves on. I am left wondering if it was I who had had his hand read, and why now does my palm resemble a map of the face of the moon?