Tweezers

 Here's a certain proof of William James's thesis 

That an emotion—philosophically defined—

Is really indistinguishable from the physiological manifestations that accompany it: 

Whenever I am using a pair of tweezers to denude my nose 

Of excess nostril-hairs, 

It always brings tears to my eyes. 

But here's the thing: I always genuinely feel like crying.

It's all well and good to say, while standing

At the kitchen-counter

Suddenly surprised 

By a concerned loved one who sees tears pouring from one's eyes: 

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not actually sad

This is just because 

I was slicing an onion

Or—plucking nose-hairs." 

But the truth is—the onion actually makes you grieve.

It's impossible not to feel the accompanying feelings

When tweezers tease, and tears start to spring. 

A nose-hair properly tweezed has power to bring 

A Wordsworthian echo from my soul; it wrings

An answering sob from out my deepest chest;

For whom, though, do I grieve—the hair

Or the one who does the tweezing? 

"O which one? is it each one?"

Or was I just sneezing? 

Even the very hairs of your nostrils are all numbered.

May God in his wisdom keep 

My tweezers from those hairs

That often lie too deep for tears.