these rubber soles know the streets
and the way the trees bend when it rains.
it rains more than ever, now; quiet streets
fill like the new year’s champagne glasses
making a toast to everything 365.2425 days
might hold. these aching hands know
more than the etchings on your jawline
and the way your voice sounds when
you’re sad; mugs are always half full
in summertime, when all the world’s
a sunset, open and blossoming. these
tired eyes know the twists and turns
and forking roads to take, though each
day a new path grows; like the flowers
that age in the dew of the morning, my
time is caught and stretched. the
streetlights understand the passing
of seconds better than i could, knowing
the tick-tock of seconds by the silhouette
of two bodies pressed close, and the
sound of a sigh; inhuman glow to
