I don’t like windows without screens
Or t-shirts with out holes
And girls that smile too long
Or boys that don’t wear blue jeans.
And I am always counting falling things
Like stars and ashes from your cigarette
Or leaves from an abrupt summer
Or the early autumn that browns and sings.
So maybe a finger needs more than a wedding band
Like your body needs more than clothes
Or a wrist will shine like a new bruise
From a day away holding your own hand.
