The sound of fingers typing/ the smile of an old man gazing at a
child/
curse words and lofty prayers/ trimly cut finger nails/
watching the noodles soften to perfection/ unstrapping each bra
clip/
lighting your cigarette/ dancing until my shirt and tie are damp/
trimming my face with a false since of dignity/ cream melted on
the bagel/
the click and clack of steps down the alley/ feeling the tire fill
with air
the boldness of bourbon/ each bird whose name I never learned
soda crackers dipped in my morning coffee/ the determined look of the chess
player
each brittle of clay caked onto the blue collar worker/ watching the street lamps light up
peeling bananas with care/ and writing with no aim of its own
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